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UBRARY~OFCONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




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"Walks About Chicago;' 



1871-1881 



Army and Miscellaneous Sketches. 



J* 

B. WILKIE, 

(Poliuto.) 







CHICAGO : 

BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., 

St. LOUIS: 

BELFORD & CLARKE PUBLISHING CO., 

MDCCCLXXXII. 






COPYKIGHTED. 

BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., 

1880. 



PRINTED AND BOUND 

BY 

DONOEUE & HENNEBERRY, 

CHICAGO. 



PREFACE. 



No apology is needed for bringing out this issue of Walks 
About Chicago, for the reason that it is done solely in re- 
sponse to an urgent, demand to that effect on the part of the 
public. The original book was issued in 1871, just before the 
great fire; and what was left of it was destroyed when Chicago 
was burned. The sale had been very large from the moment 
of issue up to the time of the destruction of the city; and 
ever since there has been a steady demand for the book. The 
second part, which consisted of letters from various watering- 
places, in the ante-fire edition, has been omitted from the pre- 
sent work, and its place supplied with Walks About Chicago 
in 1881. In all other respects the book is unchanged. 



Chicago, 1883. 



F. B. W. 



CONTENTS. 

WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO— 1871. 

A Triangular Walk — Nord Seite— Southside— West- 
side, - - - . - - - - 9 

Water- Works and Water-Falls, - - - 22 

Court-House Ghost, ----- 27 

A Walk in the Fall, ----- 33 

Orpheus in Hades, ------ 39 

How to Quit Smoking, . - 46 

Mill on the Prairie, ----- 52 

Going to the Matinee, ] 60 

The Old Man's Smoke, ----- 65 



WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO— 1881. 
A Walk with a Stranger, - 



71 



AKMY AND OTHER SKETCHES. 



A Bohemian Among the Eebels, 

Pap Fuller's Game of Poker, 

Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele, - 

Some People I have Met, 

Some Remembered Faces, 

A Reminiscence of the War, 

A Desperado who would not Stay Killed, 

Among the Guerrillas, - 



97 
112 
120 
129 
135 
141 
149 
159 



6 Contents. 

Uncle James and the Bull, - - 166 

Some Eecollections of Allatoona, - - 172 

The Revelations of a Window, - - 181 

A Revelation of Clairvoyance, - - - 190 
A Leap- Year Romance, ----- 199 

The Horrors of Masonry, - 204 

A Dream, and How it was Fulfilled, - - 213 

Getting a Drink under Difficulties, - - 226 

A Moral Country Place and its People, - - 234 

Bicycular Affection, - 245 

All About a Woman, - 252 

A Ride to Death, ----- 256 

The Most Beautiful Woman I Have Known - 272 



asijr^-a- 



WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO-1871 



g_|. — >terf — 4-SJ. 




A TRIANGULAR WALK. 

NORD SEITE. 

I HE geography, customs, productions, people, 
and so forth, of a new country, are always 
^ full of interest. 

Once, when I was traveling about, I 

reached a place known among its inhabitants 

Nord Seite." I spent some time there. I 

found much to interest a traveler. 

Nord Seite is situated in about the same latitude 

as Chicago, and is about 10J degrees of longitude 

west of "Washington. Its population is about 

60,000. 

To reach it from Chicago, one can take rail to 
New York; thence go by steamer to Alaska, via 
Cape Horn; from Alaska south to about the 42nd 
parallel; thence east by stage and rail, 2,000 miles, 
to Nord Seite. 

Nord Seite has an immense body of water en one 
side, and a river whose main stream and one branch 
inclose two of the remaining sides. Nord Seite is, 
therefore, a sort of peninsula. 

The river referred to is deep and sluggish. It can 
not be forded. It can not be crossed in small boats 
on account of its exhalations. These are a combi- 
nation of sulphuretted hydrogen, the odor of decay- 
ing rodents, and the stench of rotting brassica. In 



10 Walks About Chicago. 

crossing this river a sort of contrivance is resorted 
to, which is termed by the natives, Brucke. 

This Brucke is not always reliable. Sometimes 
one can get over the river by its means, of tener he 
can't. The Brucke is built of wood and iron, 
painted red, and at a distance looks not unlike a 
stumpy sort of rainbow. 

The inhabitants of Nord Seite consist of men, 
women, children, dogs, billy-goats, pigs, cats, and 
fleas. In estimating the proportion of each of these 
classes, it is found that the fleas vastly outnumber 
all the others. They are not only numerous, but 
full-grown and vicious. 

In the warm season a Nord-Seiter has a lively time 
in flea-hunting. In hunting this game the Nord 
Seiter shuts himself or herself in a tight room and 
strips to the skin. Then the flea is pursued and 
captured. 

Most all the Nord Seite dogs are good flea hunt- 
ers. They commence hunting fleas when young, 
without any instruction. Pretty much all their 
lives are spent in pursuit of this pastime. 

The human population of Nord Seite is indus- 
trious. In the flea and fly time especially. 

The business of the inhabitants of Nord Seite con- 
sists of a great variety of pursuits and occupations. 
These pursuits and occupations divide themselves 
naturally into two large classes. The first in- 
cludes every other male resident of Nord Seite. 
These are engaged in selling a liquid which tastes 
something like a mixture of hops and rosin. It is 
the color of amber, and is surmounted with a white, 
yeasty, flaky coronal. The other class includes 
every man, woman and child in Nord Seite. This 



A Triangular Walk. 11 

class is engaged in drinking what the other class is 
engaged in selling. 

From the large admixture of hops in this univer- 
sal beverage, it results that the residents of North 
Seite are very fond of dancing. 

The ladies of North Seite are usually feminine in 
dress, and oftentimes so in fact and appearance. 
They mostly wear their hair braided in small plaits, 
which are again braided in larger plaits, which are 
braided into still larger ones; and these are once 
more braided into a large braid, which is twisted, 
and coiled, and wound and intertwined in, and 
around, and through, and about, and over, and under 
itself, till it resembles a riddle tied in a GOrdian 
knot, and the whole enveloped in a rebus which 
nobody ever can guess. 

When a Nord-Seite lady once gets her hair done 
up in this complex and elaborate style, she never 
takes it down. She couldn't if she would. The only 
method of removing this style of coiffure is to shave 
the head. 

Intercommunication in Nord-Seite is carried on in 
various ways. Many of the inhabitants go on foot. 
Others have a small two-wheeled vehicle, to which 
are harnessed a dog and a small boy, or a little girl. 

They also have tracks upon which run vehicles 
which they term Vagens. The Vagen is drawn by 
two horses. 

The Vagen is used principally for the conveyance 
of passengers carrying goods. It will answer to 
what would be an express-car in this country, in 
which each man should ride carrying whatever ar- 
ticle he wished expressed to any point. 

I have been in a Vagen in which a woman, on 
one side of me, carried on her lap a clothes-basket ; 



12 Walks About Chicago. 

in which were four heads of cabbage ; six links of 
imported sausage ; one bottle of goose-grease ; two 
loaves of a brown, farinaceous product termed 
Brodt; a calf's liver; some strips of what is known 
as Schweinfleisch; a half peck of onions ; a string 
of garlic ; and a large piece of a fragrant compound 
known as Limburger Kase. 

On the other side of me was a woman with a baby 
in her arms ; a small child on each knee ; two other 
children, a trifle larger, on their knees, on each side 
of her, looking out of the windows of the Vagen ; 
and five other children, of various sizes, pictur- 
esquely grouped about her knees and on the floor. 
The same sort of thing was seen all through the 
Vagen. Each woman either had from four to nine 
children, or a basket that filled half the vehicle. 
Sometimes a woman would have the basket and the 
children both. 

A very common patroness of the Vagen was a 
woman with two buckets of swill, carried by a yoke 
from the neck. The woman with the swill buckets 
was very common. She usually made her appear- 
ance at every third square. She didn't generally 
look very attractive. If possible, she smelt a trifle 
worse than she looked. . 

The* Nord-Seiter is economical. No matter if he 
earn nothing per diem, he always has enough to 
buy a mug of the amber fluid, and have five cents 
over, which he puts away in the bottom of an old 
stocking. 

There is no newspaper published in Word Seite. 
But there is a brewery there. So is there a distillery. 
There is likewise a place where they sell a beverage 
known as Lager Bier. 



A Tri'angular Walk. 13 

When two or three Nord-Seiters are conversing 
confidentially on a subject which they wish nobody 
else to hear, their whisper is about as loud as the 
tone in which a Chicago man would say, "Oh, Bill!" 
to an acquaintance two blocks away. 

When two or three Nord-Seiters converse in an 
ordinary tone of voice, the result is a tremendous 
roar. A stranger would think them engaged in a 
hot, terrific altercation. 

A Nord-Seite Vagen is an epitome of one hundred 
and eight distinct odors, of which onions constitute 
the dominant. 

Some of the Nord-Seiters speak a little broken 
English. 

There are many other curious things about Nord 
Seite and its population. Any body who has time 
and money should visit the place. The people are 
hospitable. Any one can visit them; reside with 
them as long as necessary; study their customs, and 
enjoy himself very thoroughly. 

SOUTHSIDE. 

Once I described a visit I made to a remote and 
singular place known to the inhabitants as Nord 
Seite. During the same traveling expedition, I 
reached another city which contains many points of 
interest. This other place is named, by those who 
reside in it, Southside. 

To get to Southside from Nord Seite, one takes a 
steamer to Detroit, via Milwaukee, Mackinaw, and 
Sarnia. Thence east through Canada to Montreal, 
thence south via St. Albans, Rutland, Saratoga, and 
Albany to New York. From here you go to Phila- 
delphia, and thence west by rail to Southside. 



14 Walks About Chicago. 

By this route one will either reach Southside, or 
New Jerusalem, by being wrecked on the water or 
smashed on the land. By this route it is two to one 
in favor of your getting to New Jerusalem, rather 
than to Southside. Few men have ever essayed the 
trip and lived to tell the tale. 

When you once get to Southside you will feel 
amply repaid for the risking the perils of the jour- 
ney. It is a large and thriving city, and has a pop- 
ulation of less than 100.000. 

Southside is laid out next to a large and flourish- 
ing body of water on one side, and a deep and aro- 
matic river on the other. In the matter of location 
it is very exclusive. The river is impassable. Birds 
which attempt to fly over it are intoxicated by its 
exhilarating perfume, and fall into it and die. 

Southside has but one street, which is known as 
The Avenue. All the population of Southside live 
upon The Avenue. If you meet a Southsider in 
St. Petersburg, and ask him where he lives, he will 
say he lives on The Avenue. Afterwards, if you ask 
him, he will tell you in what city, state, and country 
The Avenue is located. 

Southside has street cars which are exclusively 
for the benefit of strangers visiting the place. Some- 
times a lady who lives on The Avenue gets on one 
of these cars. Whenever she does, she opens a con- 
versation with some one, and tells him in a loud 
tone that both her carriages are at the shop to be 
mended. She also is obliged to ask the conductor 
how much the fare is. 

Southside once had a fine opera-house in which 
there used to sing grand artists. But now the opera- 
house has got to be a combination of hippodrome, 
gymnasium, and model-artist exhibitions. Where 



A Triangular Walk. 15 

Casta Diva was once trilled sublimely, there is now 
roared in a hoarse voice, " Captain Jinks of the 
Horse Marines." Where Queen Elizabeth once 
strode there now straddles some undressed nymph 
— of the spectacular persuasion. 

The Avenue in Southside is occupied by some of 
the most aristocratic and wealthy families in exist- 
ence. There are many of them whose descent goes 
back to Noah and Adam. 

The hospitality of many of the aristocratic and 
wealthy families on The Avenue is remarkable. 
They carry their hospitality to such an extent that 
a family will often put notices in the newspapers 
offering all the comforts of a home to a couple of 
young gentlemen, or to a gentleman and his wife, 
without children. 

About one-half the hospitable residents on The 
Avenue, in this manner, afford the comforts of a 
home to a few guests. In return for the comforts 
of a home thus generously afforded them, the guests 
pay a small per capita tax. This little tax never 
amounts to more than twice or three times the en- 
tire expenses of the hospitable family with whom 
the guests find the comforts of a home. 

Sometimes a resident of The Avenue will take a 
few guests for their companionship. The cost of 
being a companion on The Avenue ranges from all 
you have in the shape of income to all you can 
borrow. 

There are no boarding-houses on The Avenue. A 
man who can not afford to be a companion in a re- 
fined family, or whose assets do not permit his enjo} r - 
ment of the comforts of a home, has to consult 
economy and go to a hotel, where he can exist for 
$50 per week. 



16 Walks About Chicago. 

All the people who live on The Avenue keep their 
own carriages. The gentlemen are good horsemen, 
and always do their own driving. When a South- 
sider drives himself out he usually wears a plug hat, 
with the fur, just above the brim, brushed the wrong 
way. The gentleman who thus drives himself is 
generally a fine, healthy, fresh-looking man. The 
coachman rides behind. He has thin legs, a weak 
voice, and frequently wears eye-glasses. 

The young ladies who live on The Avenue are the 
most beautiful in the world. They always marry for 
love. Especially if the husband be worth a couple 
of hundred thousand dollars. Or says he is. 

When these charming young ladies are married 
they never get divorces — in less than three or six 
months. If they do, the case is exceptional. The 
rule is one year, unless the young man's money runs 
out sooner, or the young woman gets a better offer. 

There is one gambling house in Southside. There 
is likewise a house occupied by young women who 
are highly painted, and about the purity of whose 
morals there is some doubt. 

There is likewise an association of young Christ- 
ians who pray for the poor, and needy, and the 
starving. 

Getting to heaven from Southside is an exclusive, 
first-class, expensive operation. A reserved seat on 
the Southside route costs from $1,500 to $5,000 per 
annum. They run only drawing-room vehicles and 
palace cars from the Southside depots. Grace, 
Trinity and Messiah are some of the principal de- 
pots from out which there run weekly lines of vel- 
vet and mahogany coaches, in which every thing is 
exclusive, first-class, tip-top, and warranted to run 
through without change. 



A Triangular Walk. 17 

A poor man in Southside whe wants to go to 
heaven has to go afoot. There is only one man in 
Southside who is footing it. There are some other 
poor ones who are too weak to walk and too poor to 
ride. They propose to go to the other place. It is 
a good deal cheaper to go to h — 1 from Southside 
than it is to go to heaven. 

Southside has a fine park some where. Real 
estate dealers know where it is. It will be a nice, 
shady place as soon as some trees are set out. All 
the little boys of Southside are going to take their 
grandchildren down to the park to play, as soon as 
the latter get large enough. 

There is a velocipede school in Southside. Some 
of the young men of Southside who ride the veloci- 
pede have to stiffen their legs with splinters to keep 
them from snapping off. Southside has also a peri- 
odical published in the interest of woman. The in- 
terest of woman means, the interest of the woman 
that publishes it. There is also a man in the com- 
mission business in Southside. He lives on The 
Avenue. 

There are a thousand other curious things con- 
nected with Southside and its residents which must 
be seen to be appreciated. It is a good place to go 
to. 

WESTSIDE. 

Any person who has ever traveled much, or who 
has studied physical geography, must have visited, 
or must have seen a place known as Westside. It is 
one of the largest places of its size, and the most 
singular in respect to its singularity, in the world. 

To get to Westside, the traveler provides himself 
with a water-proof suit of clothing, an umbrella, a 
life-preserver, and a box of troches. He then enters 



18 Walks About Chicago. 

an immense hole under ground which leads mainly 
westward in one direction, and eastward in another. 

This subterranean entrance to Westside was con- 
structed for a double purpose. One of these pur- 
poses was to prevent anybody who lives on West- 
side from leaving. The other was because there is 
a river which nobody can cross, owing to its ex- 
halations. This subterranean entrance runs under 
this river. 

Going through this hole is a work of immense 
difficulty and danger. The best way to get through 
in winter is to skate through. In summer, for a few 
days, in dog-days, there is good boating. The innu- 
merable cascades, cataracts, pitfalls, and the intense 
darkness, make its navigation a work of great risk. 
Like the entrance to Rasselas' Happy Valley, it is 
constructed to keep people in, who are once in, and 
to discourage the coming in of those who are out. 

Once in Westside the traveler finds himself on an 
enormous plain sparsely covered with houses. West- 
side extends from the river to a park somewhere on 
its limits to the westward. Just where this park is, 
nobody knows. The boundaries of Westside are as 
limitless and indefinite as the interval from the 
Gulf of Mexico to the present time. 

The architecture of Westside is fine aad peculiar. 
A residence with a marble front always has a 
butcher's shop on one side, and a beer saloon on the 
other. The people who live in Westside are as di- 
yersified as their architecture. 

Westside has street-cars which are sometimes 
visible when a rain has laid the dust. One conduc- 
tor on one of these street-cars washed his hands one 
spring. At least it was saicl that he did, Nobody 



A Triangular Walk. 19 

was ever able to tell when the time was, or which 
conductor it was that did it. 

Whenever a man in Westside builds a house and 
puts up a fence in front of it, he immediately calls 
the space in front of his lot an avenue. Sometimes 
a Westside avenue is as much as 200 or 300 feet 
long. 

Every other shop on Westside is owned by a 
butcher, who has always a bloody and half-skinned 
calf hanging up in his door for a cheerful sign. The 
thing is so agreeable to Westsiders, that, on every 
pleasant afternoon, the ladies take their knitting- 
work, and go and sit in front of the butcher's shop. 

Westside is the residence of a good many notable, 
strong-minded women. These strong-minded wo- 
men all have virtuous and docile husbands, who are 
further characterized by their sweetness, and their 
retiring dispositions. Whenever a Westside woman 
gets to weigh 270 pounds, she immediately starts 
out in favor of woman's rights. In this weigh, she 
is able to afford great weight to the cause which 
she advocates. 

Every woman on Westside once lived on The 
Avenue in a place known as Southside. Whenever 
she goes down town, she goes to visit a friend on 
The Avenue. Whenever she has been down town, 
she has been to call on a friend who lives on The 
Avenue. A good many ladies who live in Westside 
carry the idea, in the cars, that they live in Southside, 
on The Avenue, and are only in Westside for a visit. 
The uncle, aunt, cousin, grand-mother, brother-in- 
law, step-sister, half -uncle, and god-father of every 
body in Westside lives on The Avenue in Southside. 
No young lady in Westside will receive permanent 



20 Walks About Chicago. 

attention from a young man unless he lives on The 
Avenue in Southside. When a Westsider of the 
female persuasion dies, her spirit immediately wings 
its way to .the blissful and ecstatic realms of The 
Avenue on Southside. 

The railway companies in Westside never water 
their track. They do their stock. The result, in 
both cases, is to throw dirt in the eyes of the public. 

There are no carriages in Westside. It is so dusty 
there, that a vehicle which does not run on rails can 
never find its way from one point to another. When 
it is not dusty it is muddy. The dust has no top, 
and the mud no bottom. In either case, locomotion, 
except on tracks, is impossible. 

Westside has no newspapers. It likewise has no 
opera-house which is used as a circus. Its principal 
local amusement consists, among the men, in chew- 
ing tobacco, and among the women, in going to 
church. Wherever there is a corner in Westside not 
occupied as a drug store, it is occupied by a church. 

All the churches in Westside have something 
going on in them every evening, and seven after- 
noons in every week, and four times every Sunday. 
Whenever there is anything going on in any church, 
they toll the bell for an hour and a quarter before it 
commences, and at intervals during the perform- 
ance. The result is, that every man in Westside 
hears from one to eleven bells tolling cheerfully 
three fifths of his time. 

A stranger in Westside would conclude that the 
whole town was dead, or that ten or fifteen melan- 
choly funerals were in progress in every neighbor- 
hood. There is one church, on the corner of Wash- 
ington avenue and Robey avenue, that has been 
tolling its bell without cessation for two years. When 



A Triangular Walk. 21 

there isn't a prayer-meeting, or somebody dead, they 
toll it for somebody who is going to die. They use 
up a sexton there every thirteen days. When there 
is no prayer-meeting, or any thing else, or any body 
dead, or any body who is going to die, then the bell 
tolls for the last deceased sexton. 

Westside is immensely philanthropic. It has an 
asylum for inebriates from Southside, and other 
places. This asylum has often as many as from one 
to two inebriates who are undergoing treatment. 
The treatment consists in leaning against the fence, 
when tight, and in stepping over the way to a saloon 
and getting tight, when sober. The asylum is a very 
cheerful building, with enormous windows of four 
by six glass. Some of the rooms are fine and airy, 
and would answer for dog-kennels if enlarged and 
properly ventilated. 

There are a good many other peculiar things in 
Westside, which can be better understood by being 
seen than by being heard of. Any body who dares 
to face the dangers and darkness of the hole in the 
ground by which one reaches Westside, will be well 
repaid for his visit. 





WATER-WORKS AND WATER-FALLS. 

HEN one lacks a theme 'upon which to 

write, he can always fall back on Chicago. 

Other subjects have a depth which is fath- 

|P omable; Chicago, like its mud, is bottomless. 

One can always write about Chicago with- 

TT out wearying himself or his readers. He may 

write of it as a whole, — a mud-hole, — if he 

chooses, and never exhaust it. He may deal with 

it in particulars, and never reach their end. 

The great event of the past week was the great 
tunnel. And speaking of water-works irresistibly 
reminds one of our ladies. And this again necessi- 
tates raptures. What is there more beautiful in 
song or story, in romance or legend, in dreams or 
in imagination, than the latest style of woman? 
Her water-fall, tied on the top of her head, may be 
said to be at high tide. There is nothing so charm- 
ing as the present style. What can be more rakish 
than the little flat hat, one end of which rests on a 
delicate nose, and the other, reaching aspiringly up- 
wards, upon the towering water-fall? The nose of 
the ladies is out of joint. Once it had its own bridge; 
now it serves as a pier for a bridge from nose to 
chignon. 

The part of the head thus bridged is that which 
usually contaiDS the intellectual faculties. Bridges 
are generally built over abysses. There is ordina- 
rily nothing under a bridge. Is there any thing 



Water-Works and Water-Falls. 23 

Under these hat-bridges? Are they constructed be- 
cause there is emptiness, space, vacuity, an abysm 
between nose and waterfall? 

The elevated chignon now covers the organs of 
amativeness and self-esteem. When women lack a 
development jn any part, they usually supply it. 
Why they should pad either of these phrenological 
developments, one fails to see. It is like carrying 
coals to Newcastle. The latter of these two organs 
is always of full size in the sex. The other is never 
deficient. It is the most beautiful development in 
woman. With it she loves early and often. 

From a water-fall to water- works the transforma- 
tion is natural. In this connection, it is gratifying 
to be able to state that the new water works well. 
Not well-water, but lake-water is meant. 

The new water which comes through the tunnel 
is of the most remarkable purity. It is so perfectly 
clear and transparent that, when frozen into ice, it 
becomes invisible. When a goblet stands before 
one at dinner, he has to thrust his finger in it to 
know whether there is water there. In some 
respects it is inconvenient. A pail left over night, 
half-filled with water, will contain a half-dozen 
drowned rats in the morning. They leap into the 
pail thinking that there is nothing in it. It is dan- 
gerous to leave water-tubs about that have water in 
them; children get into them to play, under the 
impression that they are empty. Small children are 
very frequently found in a very wet condition. 

The introduction of the new water, has ruined 
filter manufacturers. Passing our water through a 
filter has the effect to purify the filter and to foul the 
water. Speaking of water-fowl leads to the inquiry 



24 Walks About Chicago. 

as to whether there is any philological connection 
between these birds and an aqua-duck? 

Not only are filter dealers about to fail, but hotel 
and boarding-house keepers are experiencing a 
heavy loss. A pitcher of water, which once went a 
great ways in house-keeping, is now of no account 
save to quench thirst. Many families that, on Fri- 
day, drank only Chicago water, now have to buy 
their fish at the market. In fact, the expenses of 
living in Chicago have increased. Where there was 
once a surplus, there is now a defishency. Before 
the tunnel was bored, board was a more profitable 
affair than it now is. Then it was like the water, — 
there was something in it; now. like the water, there 
is nothing in it. 

The cleansing properties of the new water are 
wonderful. Children whose faces have been washed 
in it have been lost and never found. Their mothers 
can not recognize them. It is proposed to estab- 
lish a place where lost children may be gathered, 
and where only the old water will be used in their 
ablutions. In time, it is expected that many young 
children, whom nobody now knows, will be recog- 
nized by their parents. 

Long-married people who wash themselves in the 
new water undergo all the satisfaction of a newly- 
married pair. She seems some other woman. He 
appears some other man. The jaded routine of 
their old life disappears. There are the freshness, 
the piquancy, of a new love. She is tender, believ- 
ing him some gentle stranger. He is gallant, think- 
ing her some beautiful young Thing. 

Some queer results attend the invisibility which 
characterizes the puritj^ of Chicago water. The 
day that the water was let in, there was an alarm 



Water- Works and Water-Falls. 25 

of fire. The engines proceeded to the conflagation. 
It was that of $250 worth of cigars, insured in four 
companies at $1,000 each. The hose was reeled off 
and attached to the hydrants. The firemen directed 
the nozzles towards the burning establishment. 
There was a tremendous rush, as of air, but appa- 
rently no water. The real state of the case was 
not suspected until a passing dog, that happened to 
go in a line of the stream, was stricken with hydro- 
phobia. 

The result of the occurrence is well known. The 
owner of the cigar stock got his insurance, and went 
back to his native clime south of the Baltic. When 
last heard from, he was engaged in giving advice 
to some poor countrymen. He told them to go 
to America, and that their best policy would be to 
insure something. He assured them that the risks 
in this business were small, and the premium for a 
virtuous adherence to the business lucrative. 

Speaking of insurance suggests that competition 
in this line grows more lively every day. A com- 
pany has just been started that offers heavy induce- 
ments. It will take small cigar stocks at a minimum 
of four times their value; and it presents, along with 
each policy, a barrel of shavings, a bottle of turpen- 
tine, and a box of matches. 

Insurance companies in Chicago are doing a fine 
business. A good many men have latterly been able 
to retire to private life. Nearly all of those who 
have retired have large balances at the bank. These 
balances appear on that side of the bank-ledger 
known as " Dr." 

Insurance, however, has no special connection 
with Chicago water, unless it be marine insurance. 
In this case there is some. Marine insurance is not 



26 Walks About Chicago. 

the life assurance of marines. It refers to vessels 
which cross that crystal reservoir from which Chi 
cago now draws its water. 

The purity of Chicago water is guaranteed from 
the fact that it reaches us through a hole. Water 
that comes to us through a hole must be wholly 
water. It does not, however, follow that it is holy 
water. It is simply good, pure water. It is good 
enough to form the subject of a poem. The eau de 
Chicago might be used as the theme of a cold water 
ode. 

Perhaps some future poet, struck by the gorgeous 
spectacle of our grandeur, may attempt this ode. If 
he does, he had better make it " owed." A century 
hence, what Chicago owed in 1867, will be a greater 
subject of reflection than its water- works. 




COURT-HOUSE GHOST. 



HE writer was taking a walk around the 

court house square. There is a nice prome- 

^^ * nade in the public square. Especially after 




,2 i - 



<8> 



night. The massive court house is piled up 
like immense masses of darkness bordered, with 
gray. It is a cool place. Whatever way one 
goes, the fierce winds come howling around the 
corners of the rectangle, meeting him square in the 
face. If he turn and go the other way, the winds 
hasten back, and are in waiting to meet him in the 
face at the next corner. 

If one is a little lonely, he need not lack for com- 
panionship. He can get up a conversation at any 
time with voices that issue through the grates. Not 
a very select conversation, however; at least on the 
part of the voices behind the grates. There is much 
oath. There are allusions suggestive of moral rot- 
tenness. Expletives odorous with blasphemy. Not 
much will be said by the voices behind the grates to 
excite the admiration of a healthy Christian. 

It was a cloudy night on which the writer amused 
himself by walking in the square. A mist had set- 
tled over the street lamps, and their light seemed to 
issue through long tubes, whose inner surface ap- 
peared covered with grayish points, like long hairs. 
Nothing was visible anywhere, save in dim outline. 
No pedestrians anywhere were visible. There came 



28 Walks About Chicago. 

indistinctly the click of billiard-balls from a half- 
obscured mass of light in the Sherman House. 

Suddenly, as the writer stood listening to the 
voices behind the grate, there stood before him a 
gigantic figure. He did not appear to have come 
there. He appeared, as it were. There was no 
sound of steps to announce his coming. He stood 
there like a tree, as if he had always been there. 
He was wrapped in a heavy overcoat. Tall boots 
passed above his knees, and disappeared beneath 
his coat. An immense cap was drawn down over 
his ears and forehead. A large shawl inclosed his 
neck and the lower portion of his face. No portion 
of the countenance was exposed, save his eyes. 

The writer was startled at the abrupt appearance 
of the stranger, and his motionless attitude, At the 
very moment that he appeared, the air seemed im- 
pregnated with a foetid odor. 

" Who are you ?" said the writer, as he involun- 
tarily covered his nose with one hand, and with the 
other felt for the butt of his revolver. 

" Who am I?" said the stranger, in a strange, hol- 
low voice. "Who am I?" he repeated slowly. "I 
will tell you who I am. I am the incarnation of 
stench. I am, in short, the Court-House Ghost." 

"You don't tell me!" 

" Truly, I am. If you doubt, use your olfactories." 

" I'f aith, I can no longer doubt the former part of 
your assertion. But the ghost part I am not so sure 
of. I am inclined to suspect that you are a bone- 
boiler just in from the South branch. Or a he-Naiad, 
just arisen from the Chicago river." 

"No. I am what I say. lam the Court-House 
Ghost. It's me who has been groaning so dismally 



Court-House Ghost. 29 

through the corridors of the jail. I was seeking an 
outlet." 

" Being a ghost, why need you make any extra 
effort to get out?" 

" Because, since the cold weather has come on, 
every crack and orifice in the jail has been so stopped 
up that there was no exit. Hence my groans. In 
warm weather, I have no trouble to come and go 
when I please." 

" Exactly. Well, do you travel around much?" 

"Oh, yes. I am fond of going around. I am 
partial to amusements. I like Wood's Museum. I 
go there often." 

" Precisely. I think it likely. I may never nave 
seen you there; but, if not mistaken, I have smelt 
you." 

"Undoubtedly. I go there almost every night./ 

" And do you have no other resort?" 

"Oh, yes, of course. Next to the Museum, I am 
partial to McVicker's. On crowded nights, I can't 
say but what I like the latter almost as well as the 
former. I sometimes, on benefit or fashionable 
nights, like to drop into the Opera-House. But, as 
a general thing, I don't like that place. It is too 
large and airy, and I become lost in its vastness." 

"Do you do anything else when you come out- 
side?" 

"Yes, next to going to places of amusement, I 
like the horse-cars. I spend a good deal of time on 
the horse-cars. Latterly, however, the roads have 
been torn up so much that my favorite routes have 
been much interfered with. My preference is for 
Archer road. That has been all right this summer, 
I used to be very fond of the Halsted and Milwau- 
kee lines. But, just to defeat or annoy me, those 



30 Walks About Chicvgo. 

roads have been torn up all summer, and, in conse- 
quence, I have been swindled out of a good many- 
pleasant trips." 

" Are you a member of any church? Do you 
patronize the Sabbath services?" 

" You take me for a heathen, sir?" 

" No, sir. I take you for a son of old rancidity, 
by a marriage with some member of the highly re- 
spectable assafcetida family. That's all. Don't 
take offence." 

" No offence. Well, then, I do attend church very 
regularly. Some of the churches in town are favor- 
ites of mine. I am partial to all the services, but 
especially to those held in the evening." 

" I think I have recognized your presence in sev- 
eral cases. As a general thing, you seem to be a 
favorite. In my own case, I must say that I have 
given more attention to you than to the sermon. 
Usually, there is more of you. You appeal, so to 
speak, more to one's senses." 

' 'Yes, I am rather a favorite among the religious 
people. Somehow, folks have fallen into the way 
of thinking that I am a necessary part of Divine 
service. If I were not present, they would not think 
the performance complete. I infer that I am much 
liked from the fact that nearly all the churches are 
built with special reference to my convenience. 
They are so fearful, apparently, that I will not stay 
with them, that they are careful to allow no avenue 
of escape. I rather like it. Usually, the sisters are 
charming. It pleases me to be with them. I nestle 
among their furs and tresses. I brush their rosy 
lips, and mingle myself with their breath. I am 
very fond of women, I am," 



Court-House Ghost. 31 

" Well, my sentimental extract of putrescence, 
what else do you do to amuse yourself?" 

" Not much of anything in particular, but a little 
of every thing in general. Sometimes I visit a twin 
brother of mine who resides at Bridgeport ; and I 
linger, at times, over the bridges to inhale the in- 
spiriting odor of that romantic stream, Chicago river. 
Occasionally, late at night, I take a ride, on a scav- 
enger's cart, into the country. Sometimes I go over 
to the Armory, and I always attend the morning 
sessions of the police court." 

" Well, now, my amiable fetor, tell me what place 
you like best, You seem to have been pretty much 
all over Chicago, and are prepared to say what you 
prefer. Have you a choice of residences — of loung- 
ing places?" 

"By all means, sir, in the language of the poet, 
' There is no place like home.' My home is the 
basement of the court-house. There is no place like 
it. I am as old as 3 or older than, the ' ancient, fish- 
like smell ' of which you have doubtless heard. I am 
the biggest old smell in Chicago. I was born in the 
jail. I love it. None of my numerous relations 
ever had a home like mine. It is so exactly adapted 
to my convenience, that sometimes I think it was 
built expressly for me. If so, blessings on the archi- 
tect! In any case, benisons on the authorities who 
are so careful to minister to my comfort!" 

At this moment the spectre seemed to grow emo- 
tional. It drew its sleeve rapidly across the abyss 
between the bottom of its cap and the top of its 
neck-handkerchief. 

"Yes, sir," it continued, "it's very generous of 
'em. I wouldn't 'a thought anybody would 'a done 
it for a poor old stink like me. It must be on ac- 



32 Walks About Chicago. 

count of my age. I am one of the oldest inhabi- 
tants. I was born right here in Chicago, and I've 
grown with the city. All the jail officials like me. 
The jailor is an especial good friend. He spends 
nearly all his time in my company. In fact, so 
much are we together that any one would take us 
for brothers. In a good many points you can't tell 
us apart." 

"Where are you going to-night?" asked the writer 
as the bell in the Court House commenced striking 
midnight. 

" I came out to go to the limits on some of the 
last cars. I generally go out with some of 'em 
when the nights are cold. Good-bye, stranger." 

Before the writer had time to respond to the salu- 
tation, the ghost of the Court House had disap- 
peared. Removing his hand cautiously from his 
nose, the writer hurried from the vicinity. 





A WALK IN THE FALL. 



HICAGO has entered the fall season under 
very favorable auspices. Chicago always 
Ip^* enters upon a change of season under 
1^ favorable auspices. When it commences the 
summer, it has a promise of its magnificent 
summer climate. When it begins winter, there 
are foreshadowings of skating, and sleighing, and 
pretty ankles, and much else more or less elevating. 
In the beginning of spring, it is very pleasant to re- 
flect that only three months of mud and mean 
weather separate us from summer. The autumn is 
mainly pleasant as being only one remove from win- 
ter. 

The fall season in Chicago, like everything else 
hereabouts, is a good thing. It is the bridge which 
connects glorious summer with magnificent winter. 
Its coolness begins to tell a little on the smells at 
the Museum and the Theatre. Only a little, how- 
ever. It takes a killing frost to effect either of 
them to any appreciable extent. Even then no 
great effect is produced. These smells have a good 
many lives. They are frost-proof. One of them is 
about four and the other is six years old. So to 
speak, they are just in the prime of life, and give 
promise of a long lease of existence. 

There is a younger smell at the Opera-House. It 
is what might be called a baby smell in comparison 



34 Walks About Chicago. 

with the veterans at the other places. But it is 
growing and thriving. In time it may be as stout 
and healthy a smell as that on exhibition at either 
of the other places. 

There is no truth in the rumor that Wood and 
McVicker are negotiating to trade smells. A trade 
would be a good thing to the respective audiences, 
by way of variety; but it would be a good deal of 
trouble to make the transfer. Ne'ithei would it bear 
transportation on a dray, owing to its size. There 
isn't any truck in Chicago large enough to handle 
either of them. 

The fall season affords tourists a fine opportunity 
to inspect Chicago in detail. One of the most fav- 
ored localities now visited by travelers is the wilder- 
ness known as Union Park. Several scientific par- 
ties have lately been organized to visit the mound in 
this park. It is a great curiosity. Last week a 
party of savans, composed of the members of the 
Chicago Academy of Sciences, went out to examine 
the mound. Taking two days' provisions, ladders 
and ropes to make an ascent with, and theodolytes 
and quadrants to take observations with, and shov- 
els and picks to dig with, they went to the park, 
and went into camp at the foot of the wonderful 
mound. 

The following are extracts from notes of observa- 
tions taken during a three days' visit to the celebra- 
ted mound: 

"The Committee appointed by the Chicago Acad- 
emy of Sciences, having provided themselves with 
abundant provisions and scientific instruments, pro- 
ceeded at once to the examination of the mound 
near West Lake Street, in what is known as Union 
Park. 



A Walk in the Fall. 35 

"This celebrated mound has hitherto been sup- 
posed to be either a tumulus, or else a species of 
lusus naturoe. 

"It presents, at a short distance, the appearance 
of an irregular hemisphere lying upon its flat side. 
A closer view showed your committee that its color 
is dark 'gray, not unlike that of the unctuous, tena- 
cious mixture of alumina and silica known as clay, 
and excavated everywhere in our streets. 

" It is entirely destitute of vegetation; from which 
fact, and the color of the mound, Dr. Andrews was 
inclined to believe that the mound was of volcanic 
origin, and that it was composed of lava worn into 
its present shape by attrition from the receding 
waters of Lake Michigan. 

" There arose a discussion as to the origin — a por- 
tion of the committee favoring the volcanic theory, 
and another portion what may be termed the tumu- 
lous explanation. It was finally agreed to postpone 
a priori discussion and! proceed with an examina- 
tion. 

"Around the base of the mound were found small, 
roundish stones, having veins, clouds and other vari- 
ations, and evidently the result of simple concretion, 
or incrustration around a central mucleus. They are 
better known as pebbles. There were also frag- 
ments of carboniferous rocks, which appeared as if 
they had been broken from the parent mass by some 
tremendous force. 

"Dr. Reily thought they resembled a good deal 
the pieces of rock taken from the limestone quarries 
near the Artesian Well, and, being there broken by 
machinery, are used for macadamizing streets. 

"By the use of ladders and ropes, an ascent of the 
mound was accomplished. Immediate preparations 



36 • Walks About Chicago. 

were made for an excavation. The crust was dense 
and almost as hard as a rock. This fact confirmed 
Dr. Kennicott in a belief that the origin of the 
mound would be found connected with the azoic- 
period of formation. 

"After the crust had been penetrated to the depth 
of six or seven inches, the process of excavation 
grew more easy. The entire absence of organic 
remains at this point of penetration seemed to rather 
strengthen the opinion of Dr. Kennicott as to the 
azoic origin of the mound. 

" Ten inches from the surface the committee found 
a large leaf in a partial state of preservation, and 
whose extent, color and odor, not unlike that of saur 
kraut, were like those of the brassica oleracea, or 
common cabbage. This remnant, being unmistaka- 
bly vegetable in its character, at once overthrew the 
theory of the reference of the mound to an azoic 
period. 

" About a foot below the vegetable, a tough, stiff, 
leathery article, not unlike a boot sole, was found. 
Eighteen inches below the latter, in a stratum of a 
gravelly character, we found the body of a vertebrate 
animal in a tolerable state of preservation. Its back- 
bone ultimated caudately about fourteen inches. Its 
head was rounded, face oval, jaws armed with long, 
sharp teeth, and feet with keen claws. The entire" 
body was covered with soft, short fur, and the ani- 
mal belonged unmistakably to the genus felis. A 
very powerful and unpleasant odor, like that which 
accompanies animal decomposition, attended the 
body found in the mound, and prevented that 
examination which the committee were disposed to 

0*1 ~\Tf* 1 "t" 



A Walk in the Fall. 37 

"The committee would request further time in 
making up their report. The presence of scoriae and 
ashes in great abundance in the mound induces a 
portion of the committee to adhere to the theory of 
a volcanic origin. The only point upon which the 
committee have agreed is, that the origin of the 
mound can not be referred to the azoic period. 

" The presence of the leaf of the brassica oleracea 
would seem to warrant the conclusion that, at some 
remote period, some members of the great Scandina- 
vian family visited the continent; and it may be that 
they erected this mound in order to celebrate some 
religious or other rite. A common pine board, upon 
which appeared the Runic inspiration 'kabbichplanz 
fur sel ' would strengthen this idea; but upon this 
point your committee are not yet agreed. 

"The presence of a specimen of the genus felis 
leads Dr. Andrew to argue that, at whatever period 
the mound was formed, there must have existed 
cotemporaneously rats and mice and political meet- 
ings. The offensive odor surrounding the specimen 
has prevented an exhaustive examination, such as 
the committee would be glad to give. So soon as 
this odor abates in its intensity, an examination will 
be held, and further and more important informa- 
tion will undoubtedly be elicited. • 

"Conclusions with reference to the specimen re- 
sembling the boot-sole are withheld, in order to give 
the committee time for more extended observation. 

"In submitting this fragmentary report, your 
committee desire simply to gratify the intense curi- 
osity of the public in regard to this remarkable 
mound. We, therefore, present our labors up to the 
present time, and ask the indulgence of your honor- 



38 



Walks About Chicago. 



able and learned body, and of the public, for a few 
weeks. The committee are not without the hope 
that further time will result in a cordial unanimity 
of opinion, and of a complete explanation of the 
phenomena attending the mound." 




ORPHEUS IN HADES, 




EOPLE who take a trip around town any 
where must have noticed a good many 

W^ highly-colored bills, upon which is printed 
1*} J the somewhat prof ane sentence: "Orpheus in 
jt Hell." 

It has also been rumored about town that 
there is a mysterious secret connected with this 
placarded profanity. Somebody has mentioned to 
somebody else that Orpheus was a man of family, 
and that his wife, by some means or other, got into 
h— 11. 

This slender information, bruiting about, has crea- 
ted a good deal of inquiry among married men. 
They are anxious to find out how Mrs. Orpheus was 
sent there; and whether or not the same process is 
available at the present day. 

As to Orpheus' attempt to get the lady out of 
limbo, there is no curiosity among these same mar- 
ried men. None that I have heard of take the least 
interest in this part of the story. All they want to 
know is how she was gotten there. 

What bearing this curiosity has upon the condi- 
tion of the married men who entertain it, must be 
imagined. 

It may be well to state that no great amount of 
sympathy is expressed by these married men when 
they learn that the effort of Orpheus to get his wife 
out of h — 11 was an ignominious failure. 



40 Walks About Chicago. 

To gratify the curiosity of these married men in 
regard to this affair, I will summarize its principal 
points: 

Orpheus was a young man who lived in Thrace, 
a good many centuries ago. He was a sentimental 
young man, who boarded with a widow, and who 
used to amuse himself by playing on a flute every 
night, after the rest of the boarders had retired. 

In this way he used to give voice to his otherwise 
unutterable melancholy,, and which he always ad- 
dressed to the sweet stars. 

One night when he was tooting, in the tenderest 
manner, Le Sabre de Mon Pere — an air just then in- 
troduced — he was heard by a young seminary girl 
named Eurydice. She was just seventeen, and full 
of gentle poesy. 

She, too, was afflicted with a profound melan- 
choly, which came, she knew not whence. She 
often thought it would be so sweet to die, and be 
buried somewhere, with flowers over her grave, 
and have a nice young man come thither and weep 
over her untimely end. 

She read Byron, and went to all the matinees. 
To her a young man seemed the most perfectly 
splendid thing that ever was created. 

She heard the plaintive strains of Le Sabre de 
Mon Pere, as they stole gently through the starry 
night. They struck a responsive chord in her 
maiden heart. 

Suffice it that these two, drawn by an irresistible 
sympathy, were not long in meeting and loving. 
An engagement followed, and then a wedding. 

It was a grand affair, and was held in public, in a 
church. A great many tickets were issued, and 
everybody was invited. Hymen himself came over 



Orpheus in Hades. 41 

to attend the nuptials. It was a very gorgeous ar- 
rangement, and was fully reported at the time in 
the daily newspapers. The names and dress of the 
bridesmaids were all given; and the bridal presents, 
which had been lent for the occasion by an accom- 
modating jeweller, were minutely described. 

In the way of a wedding it was a very big thing. 
The nuptial night was one of the grandest and most 
interesting known. 

But, alas! while on their wedding tour, the lovely 
bride went out shopping one afternoon, and was 
bitten by a demnition snake. This afflicting event 
is thus beautifully alluded to by Mr. Ovid, who was, 
at that time, " doing " the Jenkins for a daily news- 
paper: 

— " Nam nupta per herbas 
Dum nova Naiadum turba comitata vagatur, 
Occidit, in talum serpentis, dente recepto." 

Nothing more thrilling was ever written. 

She died of the bite. What became of the snake 
is not on record. She was " snaked" out of exist- 
ence. As soon as she was dead she went to h — 11. 

In ancient times all women went thither. 

Is there any evidence that the modern custom, in 
this respect, is any different from the ancient one? 

Orpheus felt vexed about the matter. He was dis- 
turbed. It made him uneasy* At length he made 
up his mind to go after her. 

Having a relative who was a Radical member of 
Congress, he had no difficulty in getting letters of 
introduction to Pluto, and to a good many intimate 
friends and relatives of congressmen in the infernal 
regions. Armed with these documents, Orpheus 
put his flute in his pocket and started on his journey, 
via Chicago, which was then, as it now is, the 
shortest route. 



4£ Walks About Chicago. 

His letter of introduction to Pluto secured him a 
warm and cordial reception. Pluto gave him a pass- 
port all through his dominions. He agreed that, if 
Orpheus should find his wife, he might take her out, 
on conditions. These conditions were, that she 
should follow her husband at a reasonable distance 
so as not to attract attention. Orpheus must not 
look back towards her; because, if he did, everybody 
would suspect what was taking place, and there 
would result a row. Pluto was averse to trouble. 
Since the Radicals were running things in the 
United States, they were getting ,sl pretty strong 
majority in this section; and they were liable to 
raise the d — euce at the slightest provocation. They 
were even talking, he observed, of impeaching him, 
and kicking him out, just because he had not given 
them all the brimstone contracts. 

Orpheus went in. It was rather a queer place. 
The first person he met asked him what in h — 11 he 
wanted? 

As he advanced farther and farther into the 
murky recesses, he was solicited with strange cries. 

" Mister, heouw will you swop jackknives?" 

" Here's your Advance, only three cents!" 

" Here's yer only regilar copy of Hatfield's speech 
on the assassination!" 

And thus saluted by the infernal clamor, blinded 
by the smoke, and half -suffocated by the sulphurous 
fumes, Orpheus penetrated the recesses of the Tar- 
tarean regions in search of his beloved Eurydice. 

Strange sights met his eyes; and a clamor like that 
of Babel stunned his ears. 

At every step he was solicited to participate in 
some scheme — to share in some enterprise. Now he 
was asked to enter a partnership for the manufac- 



Orpheus in Hades. 43 

ture and sale of wooden nutmegs. Again, he was 
invited by former members of the Chicago Board of 
Trade to embark in " going long " on sulphur. 

"Yer see," said one of the latter, "if the Bads 
carry the fall elections, there will be a rise in brim- 
stone, sure." 

But the bereaved Orpheus passed on, heedless of 
the voices, and always bending everywhere his mel- 
ancholy glances in search of his beloved Eurydice. 

At length he reached the female department. It 
was in the nethermost depths of the dominions of 
the Plutonian monarch. 

Here he saw a singular spectacle. There were 
long streets, upon which were located gorgeous 
bazars. The spirits of women wandered in and 
out incessantly, pricing goods, and buying every 
thing that they desired. 

The torture consisted in the fact that each woman 
had to pay her own bills. 

In a distant corner of a large shop he saw his own 
Eurydice pricing some gorgeous silks. Her large 
blue eyes were filled with tender melancholy ; her 
soul was pervaded by a nameless terror. 

What thus terrified her was the anticipation that 
she alone must pay for the mountains of stuff which 
she was selecting. 

Placing his flute to his lips, he commenced play- 
ing " I'll follow thee." As if caught by some invisi- 
ble but powerful chain, Eurydice dropped a superb 
watered silk and commenced to follow him who ad- 
vanced before her playing upon his flute. 

It was in vain that salesmen along the route 
offered her the most magnificent stuffs at reduced 
prices. Curiosity, the strongest motive in the hu- 
man breast, impelled her forward. She wished to 



44 Walks About Chicago. 

know who it was that preceded her — him of the ele- 
gant carriage, the melancholy step, and the flute 
that gave utterance to plaintive murmurings. 

She never supposed that it was her own beloved 
Orpheus ; but imagined that 'it was a young man, 
with a heavenly moustache, who had once given her 
a seat on a street-car. 

Meanwhile, Orpheus proceeded on towards the 
mouth of the infernal pit. His eyes, directed in 
front of him, were fixed upon the far future. He 
saw a beautiful cottage scene, in which Eurydice 
and himself were the centre pieces, and around 
which revolved and gamboled fair-haired, innocent 
children. 

Through the murky gloom there penetrated a ray 
of light. It was of the outer world. Before him he 
saw dimly the yawning gates of the sulphurous re- 
gions. A burst of light poured through them, like 
the rays of the sun between two black clouds. Al- 
ready he felt himself free, and by his side, Eurydice. 
Meanwhile his flute kept on: "Whistle and I'll 
come to you my lad," " Old Dog Tray," and " Home, 
Sweet Home." 

Suddenly there rang above the clamor of voices, 
and the roar of fires, a shriek. Orpheus recognized 
the sweet tones of his Eurydice. Forgetful of his 
promise not to turn his head, he looked back. 

He had just time to see a Chicago lawyer offering 
to procure a divorce for Eurydice in thirty days, 
without publicity, when 

He suddenly found himself impelled by some tre- 
mendous power through the open gates, which closed 
behind him with a fierce metallic clang. 

He was flung through space like a cannon-ball. 



Orpheus in Hades. 45 

When he recovered his full consciousness, he was 
back in Thrace, a lonely widower. 

And this is the story of Orpheus. It is a sad and 
instructive recital. Let married men then study 
and profit by its lessons. 

Its moral is this: If your wife gets snake-bitten 

and goes to the Plutonian domain don't follow 

her. 




HOW TO QUIT SMOKING. 



tf. 




HERE is a very particular friend of mine 
who lives on The Avenue. It does not make 

jgpP^ any difference which avenue. Inquiry in 

^ this direction might prove damaging. 

I may add that, last summer, in an extended 
trip of several months, and over half the con- 
tinent, I met everywhere people from Chicago. I 
made the acquaintance of several hundred of them, 
and found that every one of them lived " on The 
Avenue." If anybody ever met anybody from Chi- 
cago that did not live " on The Avenue," then some 
one has a different experience from what I have. 

Moreover, I never met anybody any where who 
knew anybody in Chicago, without it happening that 
the Chicago acquaintance lived " on The Avenue." 
People whom one meets on the cars, in steamers, on 
horseback, or on foot, in- any part of the globe, who 
are coming on a visit to Chicago, are invariably 
going to see somebody who lives " on The Avenue." 

The Avenue of Chicago is enormously extensive, 
and the number of people in Chicago who are on it, 
is marvelous. 

My friend who lives on the Avenue — it is neither 
Blue Island nor Milwaukee Avenue — sent for me 
last Monday night. He is a commission merchant 
on Water Street, like almost every body else in Chi- 
cago. He is a man of family — his own— and is aged 
about forty years. 



Hoiv to Quit Smoking. 4< 

His note asking me to come up was in haste, and 
was very unlike the usual clear, business-like chirog- 
raphy of my friend. The letters were stranded here 
and there along the lines, as though they were a 
large washing hung out to dry, and were agitated by 
a high' wind. 

I went up at once. Mrs. Brown admitted me, and 
bore a solemnity upon her face like unto that of a 
funeral. In response to my inquiries she groaned 
portentously, and said nothing. She led me to 
Brown's room opened the door and then went 
away. 

I was horrified at what met my vision. My hith- 
erto staid and respected friend sat in an arm-chair, 
in his shirt-sleeves, with his feet in a bucket of hot 
water. One of his eyes was severely in mourning, 
and shut tight. His nose had grown bulbous, like a 
prize pear, and was of a mixed color, in which 
patches of fiery red and deep purple alternated. One 
of his ears had a patch over it; and several black- 
ancl-blue places revealed themselves on his bald, and 
once shiny, and benevolent pate. 

His right arm was done up in bandages, and car- 
ried in a sling. His lips were swollen out enor- 
mously, and in a way that brought his mouth half 
way around to his left ear. A long strip of court- 
plaster extended across his cheek. 

"For God's sake, Brown, what's the matter?" 
I exclaimed, as I took in the fearful appearance of 
one whom I knew to be high up in a lodge of 
Good Templars that meets at the Washingtonian 
Home. 

" Matter ! " replied the bruised spectacle, in a 
voice that seemed to percolate through tortuous 



48 Walks About Chicago. 

labyrinths — " matter ! you're the matter ! That d — d 
Sunday Bullpen is what's the matter !" 

"The Sunday Bullpen! What! That Christianly 
and poetic production the cause of such devastation 
and ruin as this? No, sir ! Never ! Never !" 

"Yes, The Sunday Bullpen, I tell you ! " 

" But — impossible ! " 

" Impossible, be d — d ! You just listen now, and 
I'll tell you ! " 

I seated myself, and thereupon Brown proceeded 
to unfold the following astonishing tale : 

"You know I'm a great smoker. We fellows 
who supported Grant rather pride ourselves on imi- 
tating that marvelous leader. So, in trying to imi- 
tate that great man, I got into the habit of smoking 
about twenty-five cigars a day. 

" Mrs. Brown, of course, didn't like it. She turned 
up her nose whenever I pulled out a cigar. Some- 
times it made her sick, and then it made her faint. 
But I noticed one thing, my boy, and that was, that 
when Jinks or Jobbers came in with a cigar, she 
always said she was so fond of cigars. 

" Well, the old woman got sick, and faint, and 
sniffed around the curtains, and said 'faugh !' every 
time she came near me; and I made up my mind it 
was no use. You can always do the same. When 
a woman gets after you, you may just as well come 
down. She'll fetch you in time, see if she don't. A 
woman will just out worry the devil, when she gets 
started after any thing. 

"Last Sunday morning one of the boys read The 
Sunday Bullpen— dern the infernal sheet ! Among 
other things, he read an article on tobacco, by some 
M. D. of the name of Johnson, or Jackson. Here's 
the paper. You look along towards the last of that 






How to Quit Smoking. 49 

tobacco article, and read what he says about an 
antidote to smoking." 

Looking through the article in question, I found 
and read the following: 

"I would suggest, however, to those desiring to break the 
habit, the following prescription: Take, in the morning, about 
three drachms of whisky, and smoke none; in the afternoon 
repeat the dose; continue this three weeks: and if the habit of 
smoking be not broken, I have missed my mark. You will, prob- 
ably, always like the flavor of a good cigar; but, with some firm- 
ness, you can easily overcome the desire. The tobacco being 
withdrawn, the whisky substitutes itself and dissipates the desire 
to smoke." 

"Yes, that's it," said Brown. "The old woman 
had been worryin' me, and I made up my mind I 
might as well quit. The remedy didn't seem a bad 
one to take. By and by I slipped out, went round 
to a corner saloon, and took the prescription of three 
drams, at intervals of about ten minutes. 

" The thing worked beautiful. I didn't want to 
smoke, but I did want another dram, and I took an- 
other. This made me kind o' thirsty, and so I took 
one more. By this time I felt very sorry for some 
seedy chaps sittin' around the stove, and I invited 
'em all to take a drink. I afterwards took a drink, 
at my expense, with the bar-keeper, who seemed a 
mighty nice sort of a man. 

" I don't remember very clearly what happened 
after this. I think I proposed to a chap with a big 
moustache to go and take a buggy-ride up The Ave- 
nue. I think somebody got a buggy, and we got in, 
after taking another dram to keep me from wanting 
to smoke in public. 

1 'They say that I acted like one wild on The Avenue. 
Every body was going to church, it seems, and I 



50 Walks About Chicago. 

must have played the very thunder ! All I remem- 
ber about it is, that last night, about seven o'clock, 
I waked up and found myself in the sawdust in the 
armory. My hat was gone ; my coat was torn in 
two, up the back ; my shirt-front ripped into ribr 
bons ; both pockets turned inside out ; my money 
gone ; and myself the bruised and broken reed which 
you see before you. 

" I won't stop to tell you of my frightful horror 
during the night. This morning I was thrust into a 
hole called a ' bull-pen,' with about seventy-five of 
the worst looking he and she loafers in Chicago. I 
spare you my agony upon being called out in full 
view of the justice, police, reporters, and public. I 
was accused of disorderly conduct. Seven police- 
men swore that they had chased me for over three 
hours. They said I drove over four children, and dogs 
without number ; that I lost my hat, and went bare- 
headed, giving an Indian war-whoop every fifteen 
seconds ; that several runaways occurred in conse- 
quence of my furious driving and yelling ; and that, 
when finally caught, I fought and kicked so that 
they had to club me severely before I would submit 
and go to the lock-up. 

"I was fined $100, and was called a hardened rep- 
robate by the corpulent old hypocrite who tried 
me. I gave him a check for the amount, which a 
policeman went out with, and when he came back, 
I was released. 

" You see, all this happened on account of that in- 
fernal Sunday Bullpen. I want you to go to the office 
and stop the cursed thing. If I ever can find that 
fellow Johnson, or Jackson, I'll mellow his counten- 
ance just as sure as my name's Timothy Brown — 






How to Quit Smoking. 51 

see if I don't ! Dern his everlasting skin, teeth, 
eyes, and toe-nails !" 

"What did Mrs. Brown say when you returned?" 
asked I, as Brown concluded his lugubrious narra- 
tion with a ponderous sigh. 

"What did she say? Ker-r-i-s-t ! Wh-e-e-w !" 
And this was all I could get out of Brown as to what 
was said by his martyred helpmeet. 

I comforted poor old Brown as well as I could ; 
but I did not tell him that there was a very material 
difference between "three drachms" and "three 
drams" of whisky. Some other time I shall tell 
him ; and, meanwhile, I invoke the prayers of all 
kindly souls in his behalf, and to shield him from 
the righteous indignation of that deeply injured and 
austere matron Mrs. Timothy Brown. 



MILL ON THE PRAIRIE. 




MAN who was around town much during 
a certain week, must have noticed that, 
^ during the fore part of the week, there was a 
SJlf' good deal of talk about Duffy and Bussy; and 
during the latter part of the week, a good deal 
of talk about Bussy and Duffy. 
Bussy and Duffy are nob names remarkable for 
resonance, symmetry, or style. They are not the 
kind that usually go down to posterity. They go 
down the stream of time, it is true, but they will go 
down, as some ships go down — that is, to the 
bottom. 

During the fore part of the week, Duffy was a 
great man. There were odds in favor of the popular 
notion that Mr. Duffy was a greater man than Mr. 
Bussy. These odds took a tangible form — some- 
what like $100 to $75. That is, stamps had it that 
Duffy was the heavier sockdollager of the two sock- 
dollagers. 

It was observable that, after Wednesday, the 
weathercocks of public opinion, which had hitherto 
all set persistently Duffy wards, all pointed rigidly 
Bussy- wards, as if they had never pointed otherwise 
in all their lives. How the currents of general esti- 



Mill on the Prairie. 53 

mation all thus reversed their direction, and set the 
vanes to pointing contrariwise, is a matter worthy 
of description — of speculation — of research. 

II. 

On a certain Wednesday morning of that notable 
week — week ever notable as the Bussy-Duff y week — 
many people came out of the mist and centred about 
the grounds where a certain railroad has not yet 
erected large and surpassing passenger and ticket 
buildings. Variety was observable among this 
crowd. Many looked as if fresh from the arms of 
sleep. A diffused redness of eyes bore witness to 
vigils, and mayhap of undue stimulant. There was 
a noticeable prevalence of breadth of chest. There 
was likewise a fashionable style of countenance, in 
the which there were evidences of knuckle inunda- 
tions that had carried away nose-bridges. Under- 
jaw was there "in force. There was likewise much 
large mouth, somewhat of an open carpet-sack 
order. 

One who looked over this crowd, that had trickled 
from out the surrounding mist, could not but reflect 
upon the vast amount of indignant, and deceived, 
and outraged wifehood, that existed here and there 
all over Chicago. What remonstrances must have 
poured from wifely lips when masculine married- 
ness timidly asserted its intention of going to the 
prize-fight! What suspicions must have grown in 
virtuous bosoms when pater familias arose at the 
unseasonable hour of six A. M., and asserted that 
urgent business required an early advent into town! 

One prominent atom of social respectability told 
his astounded partner that he was obliged to go out 



54 Walks About Chicago. 

on an early train to " inspect a mill." Oh, woman! 
even the question of Bussy versus Duffy could not 
be discussed without exposing you to man's deceit 
and machinations. 

Large professional and otherwise respectability 
had assembled in the crowd, and with its high noses 
and soft, slender hands, toned down the tendency to 
flatness in snouts, and to bony hugeness in -fists, of 
the dominant majority, One moving among the 
crowd, and familiar with the faces of noted charac- 
ters, could readily discover Brothers Moody and 
Farwell, Reverends Hatfield and Ryder, Judges Van 
Buren and Wilson, and many other prominent phi- 
lanthropists, clergymen and judges, as among the 
more noted of those who, from motives of delicacy 
or lack of time, had concluded not to be present. 

Nearly all the crowd, being in no particular hurry, 
determined to wait and ride out on the cars, in place 
of going a-foot. 

III. 

And it came to happen that, about high twelve or 
a little thereafter, some thousand or more people, on 
this particular Wednesday, formed themselves into 
a hollow square, which, by measurement with a 
tape-line, from a reporter with a note-book, in one 
corner, to a gentleman with a broken nose, in the 
next corner, was four and twenty feet. Dense to 
extreme were the living walls of this square. Look- 
ing from the centre outwards, there seemed four 
floors of human heads — floors which began some- 
where in an inextricable jumble of legs and boots, 
and rose gradually outward, like an inclined plane. 
Somewhat resembled these four walls the approach- 
ing sides of a hopper in a grist mill — hence, perhaps, 



Mill on the Prairie. 55 

why the central operations of the former are called 
a " mill." So evenly rose these walls or floors of 
heads, and so dense were they, that, with but little 
caulking, they would have shed water like a roof. 

Close adjoining was a hay-stack. Sheltered under 
its lee was an object at which a small crowd stared 
curiously. It bore some resemblance to a man — a 
sick man. Eyes of a dull, milky color; countenance 
ashen; and bones of jaw and cheek seeming on the 
point of bursting through the skin. As if agueish or 
suffering, the figure lay with its knees drawn up to 
its chin, and hugged an old overcoat about its form, 
as if to accumulate a little warmth. A heavy fur 
cap was drawn over its head; and it rested limp and 
nerveless, chewing straws abstractedly, as if life 
were an unwelcome reality. Poor devil! 

A little later, and over the heads of the hollow 
square there comes a-wobbling what looks on its 
passage like a dead cat flung vigorously upward by 
the tail. It is an old fur cap, as is seen when it 
lights. An irregular commotion, cleaving its way 
through a corner of the hollow square, like a slightly 
submerged log being pushed up stream. Tremen- 
dous hi-hi's, and there is evacuated centreward the 
limping figure of the hay-stack. His head reveals 
hair close-cropped, coming down to a triangular 
point on his forehead, like a colossal saw-tooth. 
Ears immense, mouth an enormous gash. He sham- 
bles across to his corner in a gait which is a mixture 
of limp in both feet and a dog-trot. Mainly dog- 
trot, however; for his head bowing awkward ac- 
knowledgments to chorused hi-hi's, his slouched 
shoulders and thrust out arms make him resemble a 
dog essaying a trot on his hind legs. He seats him- 
self. It is the agueish invalid of the hay-stack. It 



56 Walks About Chicago. 

is the then less renowned, but now the more re- 
nowned Bussy. 

More semblance of dead cat flopping into ring, 
more convolutions and wriggles in human wall, 
more hi-hi's, and the then more renowned, but now 
less renowned, Duffy. Not a beauty is Mr. Duffy, 
any more than his vis-a-vis, Mr. Bussy. But a dif- 
ference, nevertheless. Less slouch, less mouth, less 
ears. A long face, short upper lip, prominent nose, 
some front teeth somewhere lost on some former 
similarity, close-cropped hair, mild gray eyes, a 
skin with a dash of color in it, and a semi-anxious, 
semi-equable expression — such, Duffy. 

Adjoining to and hovering about Mr. Duffy, a 
Colossus, like an elephant reared to the perpendicu- 
lar, and clad fashionably. In the vast shoulders, 
bull-neck, little, cunning eyes, and small nose, one 
recognizes the giant bruiser, McCoole. Diagonally 
across, and doing the planetary about the invalid of 
the hay-stack, is a good looking, medium sized gen- 
tleman, in full suit of black, with plug hat and natty 
cane. His black hair is elaborately parted; his chest 
is round and full; his nose immense; his eyes small, 
black, and piercing; his countenance full, pleasant, 
and open. He looks like a foreman in a machine 
shop. It is Joe Coburn, who supposes himself the 
foremost mauler in existence. Some other lesser 
lights in parti-colored shirts, and the outlines of the 
picture are sufficiently complete. 

IV. 

They all feel sorry for poor Bussy. He looks like 
an old man in feeble health. He sits bent forward, 
with his clasped fingers holding his knees. Duffy 



Mill on the Prairie. 57 

sits erect, calmly surveying the crowd, and curi- 
ously his opponent. Bussy looks furtively at Duffy 
and the crowd, like a penned dog reconnoitering 
for a hole through which, with dropped tail, he may 
escape imagined turpentine, tin kettles, and mal- 
treatment. 

There is a peeling of old coats. Then old pants 
follow suit. Then knitted vests, ragged undershirts, 
and multifarious underwear; and Bussy and Duffy 
stand in spiked shoes and tight-fitting drawers. 
Bussy still slouched, Duffy erect. 

Some body says, " Time." In a fraction of a sec- 
ond two figures, naked to the hips, confront each 
other in the centre of the four-cornered "ring," The 
agueish figure of the invalid of the hay-stack has 
suddenly become transformed. The slouch has left 
his shoulders. Well balanced on his legs, he stands 
with expanded chest, and head well thrown back. 
All over his arms and breast appear knobs of muscle. 
Poised like a statue, he seems to have suddenly 
become the impersonation of power. A smile just 
lifts his upper lip enough to disclose a row of white, 
even teeth. Into his dull, milky eyes there seems 
flowing a white, sinister light. 

Duffy, the favorite, stands easily. His body is 
round, his limbs slender. He seems more like a 
grayhound than a bulldog — built more for the chase 
than for conflict. With his longer arms and taller 
form, he seems to possess an advantage over his 
shorter opponent. 

Their eyes are fastened each upon the other. The 
naked arms work unceasingly, and the two bodies 
move about as if seeking some vulnerable approach. 
A moment later and two arms shoot forward like 
lightning; then a clinch, a fierce tugging and inter- 



58 Walks About Chicago. 

twining, and the two forms go down together. Two 
men rush from each of two corners; two pick up 
and carry one-half of the struggling mass to one cor- 
ner, and two take the remainder to the other. Seated 
each upon the knee of his second, the panting con- 
testants gaze eagerly at each other. Two bright-red 
spots have suddenly flashed upon the ashen forehead 
of Bussy. Duffy sits unmarked and calmly compla- 
cent. The battle is opened. In thirty seconds it 
will be resumed. 



Thirty minutes have passed. Upon Duffy there 
are no marks save here and there upon his body red 
spots, which look as if blistered. Bussy's left eye is 
entirely closed. A dark, pulpy mass overhangs it 
like a cliff. Blood trickles from his cheek bones, 
his mouth, and neck. 

Despite this, Bussy is not hideous — not even 
repellant. As he faces his antagonist, his single 
eye blazes with a determination that transfigures 
him. He is no more a pummeled, unsightly bruiser, 
but a hero. Amidst the foam and blood on his 
swollen lips, there plays a smile, a reflex of endur- 
ance, which lightens and softens his whole face 
like a halo. 

Hereabouts lies the savage fascination of the 
scene. Curious as it may seem, there is just a touch 
of the sublime about that battered, swollen face, 
with its blazing eye, and lambent smile touching up 
the distorted and foam-colored lips. 

Absorbed in the antagonism of the contest, the 
spectators feel no pity for the tremendous punish- 
ment. It may even be believed that the men do not 



Mill on the Prairie. 59 

feel it themselves at the moment. In the excite- 
ment, the fierce struggles, the alternating hopes 
and fears, pain is forgotten. 

"While there was a dash of the sublime, there was 
a touch of the pitiful. It was at the moment when, 
torn from each other's grasp and seated upon the 
knees of their seconds, each turned panting to see 
how the other stood the battle; and one could read 
the plainly expressed hope that the terrific struggle 
which had just ended had also finished the endur- 
ance of the other. Each time, before the veil of 
blood was wiped away from the eye of Bussy, he 
would interrogate the condition of his opponent for 
signs of exhaustion. And now many times during 
the hard struggle did Duffy scan with eager anxiety 
the opposite corner for some evidence that the con- 
test was about ended ! 

VI. 

All this is about a couple of unknown Celtic scala- 
wags, who, a month before, were nameless, and 
whom respectability, a fortnight after, had forgot- 
ten. And yet these two Celtic nobodies were for an 
hour transfigured into glowing heroes. To all of 
which the many very respectable gentlemen present 
— not the roughs, thieves, or bruisers — will bear 
willing or unwilling witness. 

P. S. — The writer wishes to add that an attempt 
to get up a chicken-match, out of the fowls of the 
above alluded to prize fight, was not a success. 



GOING TO THE MATINEE 



ffi hwA . 




TOOK a walk around, the other afternoon, 
to a matinee, at one of the popular places of 
amusement. It makes no particular differ- 
ence which one. Two matinees are a good deal 
like two peas. After you get in, you can't tell 
them apart. 
I went around early to get a seat. Found seve- 
ral hundred young women and several men, who had 
gone around early for the same reason. The en- 
trance was densely packed with a crowd whose tail 
extended out into the street. 

I reached there just at the same moment that did 
a sweet young girl with a very white-and-pink com- 
plexion, a " folio w-me-fellers " over her shoulder, 
and, on her lips, carnation. She gazed at the dense 
crowd before her, and then remarked to a gentleman 
with a dyed moustache, "Watch me go through 
there, will you, hoss?" 

The lovely creature . squared herself, lowered her 
head, advanced her elbows — and went in. I availed 
myself of the opportunity, and followed in her wake. 
It was delightful, especially the remarks we heard. 
One superb being proposed to mash the nose of my 
conductress. Another exquisite thing announced 
her intention to "go for " my leader. Another gen- 
tle angel wanted to know, with a good deal of as- 
perity, who the h — 11 she was crowding? 



Going to the Matinee. 61 

As we progressed slowly ahead, all the women 
who were at the rear of the crowd fell in behind us, 
and pushed forward. The mass then presented the 
singular spectacle of a solid body, through whose 
centre there ran a current. So soon as the head of 
this current reached the door, the sides of the mass 
began to form currents towards the street. These 
two currents, meeting at the street, joined, and began 
to flow down the middle again, toward the door. 
Three times did I find myself at the door, and as 
often in the street. The currents were resistless; 
the jam was tremendous. 

By and by the door opened and we went in. Ther' 
was some tall running. The exhibition afforded of 
pedal extremities was like a picture in some modern 
flash publication. They were quite as numerous, 
and a good deal more of them were shown. Red 
flannel under-skirts are still worn, but very short. 

The agility and other things displayed by the 
ladies in getting over the backs of seats, and locat- 
ing themselves in the best places, were singularly 
wonderful. 

After awhile we got seats — that is, about half of 
us. The other half of us stood up. Among those 
who stood up were about thirty engaging gentlemen 
with dyed moustaches and modest faces. These gen- 
tlemen arranged themselves around the outer aisles 
in a position fronting the ladies. 

They appeared to be young men of great wealth. 
They had immense diamonds, and watch-chains of 
fabulous dimensions. Evidently they were, some of 
them, from the Lake Superior mining country, for I 
heard them talk about "coppering" something. 
Another of the aristocratic vouths was evidently a. 



62 Walks About Chicago. 

theological student, for he said something about 
having had a " call." 

It was about an hour and a half before the play 
began. The interim was occupied by the ladies in 
a discussion of their own little affairs, and in criti- 
cisms upon each other. There was a tremendous 
clatter, in which one could hear nothing distinctly, 
unless addressed to him. I caught scraps of re- 
marks, to-wit: 

" Is them diamonds on " 

:( You bet they ain't. Where- 



" Where d'ye suppose she got her good clothes, 

if she " 

" Oh my! just look at that hat " 

" Painted', of course " 



"Lives on Fourth Avenue, with " 

" Jim thinks I'm out on the West side- 



" Went to the office and told John I was going out 
to " 

"Wouldn't have Mr. Johnson know I'm here 
for " 

" See that feller making signs to me with 

"'Keeps a faro-bank on Dearborn " 

"If you please, ma'am, just keep your elbow 
out " 

"The h— 11 you say " 

" Couldn't meet you last night, because my hus- 
band sus " 

6 At eight o'clock to-morrow night, on the corner 
of State and " 



" My ! what singular ladies these Chicago " 

" Ain't it jolly? Our folks don't suspect " 

" Billy's gone back on " 

' i Come around to-morrow evening. John is going 
to " 



Going to the Matinee. 63 

And thus the concert went on, mingled with ten 
thousand allusions to dry goods, laces, poplin, illu- 
sion, and other things which were Greek or Chal- 
daic to unsophisticated person, who, like myself, 
had never served an apprenticeship in a dry -goods 
establishment. 

The aristocratic young men with dyed moustaches 
were particularly modest. No one of them whom I 
saw ever stared more than one woman out of coun- 
tenance at a time. Some of the women didn't 

stare out of countenance worth a cent. It was about 
an even thing when some of the latter and the youths 
with the dyed moustaches got to looking at each 
other. Whichever yielded first, usually did so with 
a modest wink at the other. 

-Asa whole I was very much impressed with the 
matinee. The ladies were remarkably beautiful. 
They were dressed in a manner gorgeous beyond 
all description. Their elbows were of a universal 
•sharpness, of which I have patterns of one hundred 
and eighteen different ones on my body. They were 
as modest in their conversation as in their dress. 
The bearing of many of them was as modest as their 
conversation. They were calculated to impress a 
beholder very highly. 4 

The perfumery was elegant. I recognized twenty- 
seven different kinds of French extracts ; eleven 
varieties of old Bourbon \ ninety-four of Trix ; sixteen 
of onions ; besides a variety of others, such as cloves, 
sherry, cardamon, lager, tobacco, cheese ; and ex- 
clusive of seventeen other species whose character 
I could not recognize. 

The matinees are fine things. There should be 
more of them. They cultivate feminine muscle. They 
develop woman's love of the drama, her powers of 



64 Walks About Chicago. 

observation, and numerous other qualities too num- 
erous to mention. I did not observe any husbands 
present with their wives. Nor did I notice any 
wives present with their husbands. 

In fine, the matinee is a res magna. There should 
be one every afternoon. It should be some time 
after noon. The longer the better. 





THE OLD MAN'S SMOKE, ETC. 

N a family up town there is an individual 
known among his more intimate friends as 
the "Old Man." The Old Man is "rising" 
of seven years old, and is a regular old patri- 
arch in the way of knowing things. The other 
day Madame, who is the Old Man's maternal 
relative, came down stairs. As Madame stepped 
into the room, the Old Man had just lighted a cigar, 
and was essaying his maiden smoke. He sat upon 
the sofa, with his legs crossed like an old veteran. 
His parental relative's broad-brimmed hat covered 
his head, and he held his cigar gracefully between 
his first and second fingers. 

Madame, being sensible, did not faint, or "go for" 
her slipper, but took a book and sat down to watch 
operations. The Old Man had watched for her 
appearance dubiously; but her unconcern reassured 
him, and he queried, after a vast puff of smoke, and 
with immense nonchalance, " What's your opinion 
of rats?" 

And the Old Man was happy. He discussed the 
weather with Madame as if he were an old gentle- 
man who had called in to chat over the affairs of the 
neighborhood. Madame replied indifferently, as if 
absorbed in her book, but all the while keeping the 
corner of an eye upon the veteran on the sofa. 

The Old Man progressed swimmingly. Pussy 
was called up, and disgusted with the phenomenon 



66 Walks About Chicago. 

of an unexpected quart of smoke in her eyes and 
nostrils. "Bob," a female kitchen mechanic, was 
invited in by the Old Man to witness how he could 
"smoke through his nose." He hauled up a chair 
and raised his ten-inch legs clear to the top of the 
back, did this Old Man. And all the time he smoked 
with the coolness of a Turk. 

Life opened up roseately before the Old Man. A 
future revealed itself through the smoke, which 
was half cigar and half meerschaum. A cigar was 
to be smoked every morning after breakfast. A 
negotiation was effected with Madame wherewith 
to buy a cigar at recess. In the evening a pipe. A 
pipe which he was to color. A beautiful, white pipe, 
which was to be purchased by the sale of a ball, two 
colored buttons, and a kite-string. Never was there 
such a future or such a pipe. 

And in thus dreaming, and planning, and chatting, 
the Old Man smoked — now sending a current from 
his nostrils, now driving it out with a furious blast, 
and anon puffing it forth in detached cloudlets. 

The cigar was smoked to the very lip, and then 
the Old Man thought he would try a pipe. Taking 
down the meerschaum, he scraped it out scientific- 
ally with his jackknife, filled it, and resumed his 
seat on the sofa, and lifted his ten-inch legs to the 
chair-back. During all this time the Old Man's face 
was as serene, his smile as genial, and his talk as 
agreeable, as if earth were affording its highest 
enjoyments. 

It was an ancient pipe, with much nicotine lurk- 
ing in its tubular communications. Occasionally 
some of the nicotine invaded the Old Man's tongue, 
whereat he grimaced somewhat — nothing more. 



The Old Man's Smoke, Etc. 67 



The meerschaum was half smoked out. Once or 
twice, in the course of absorbing converse, it went 
out, but was at once relighted with many a resonant 
puff. The pipe was half smoked, and then there 
came a single, pearly drop of perspiration creeping 
out from the Old Man's hair upon his forehead. A 
moment later another stole from some covert and 
stood upon his chin. About this moment something 
seemed suddenly to strike the Old Man. A cheer- 
ful remark was abruptly broken off in the centre, 
and the Old Man suddenly stopped as if to reflect 
upon something unexpected — somewhat as if he had 
just remembered that his note was over-due, or he 
had suddenly recollected that his two children had 
died five minutes before, or that he was to be hanged 
in three minutes, and had entirely overlooked the 
fact. 

He took down his legs from the chair, laid aside 
the broadbrim, and started to put up the pipe. 

"Why don't you finish your smoke?" inquired the 
Madame. 

" I — b'lieve— I've— smoked — 'nuff," replied the Old 
Man, as he walked with an uneven step to put up 
the pipe. When he came back, the drops of per- 
spiration upon the chin and forehead were rein- 
forced by hosts of others. A waxy whiteness had 
taken possession of the approaches to the Old Man's 
mouth. He stared vaguely, as if looking through a 
mist. 

Two minutes later, all there was of the veteran 
on the sofa was a limp figure, white as snow, with 
head bound in wet towels, and an attendant with a 
slop dish. A little later, and the Old Man lay white 
and still, with fixed eyes, and a scarcely perceptible 
breathing. It was hours before the Old Man left 



68 



Walks About Chicvgo. 



his bed, and when he did, he moved about as do all 
very old men who find the weight of years a bur- 
den. 

The Old Man has not yet traded his ball, buttons 
and kite-string for a meerschaum. 




^s^ 



WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO-1881 



$- > .C=3£d< < » 



So 




A WALK WITH A STRANGER. 

T was one of those charming days of sum- 
mer which prevails in the metropolis of 
Great Britain. The smoke from a million 
chimneys came out upon the air, and, then, 
intoxicated with the balmy environment, sank 
languidly into the arms of the white fog that had 
risen during the night like a white-robed Venus 
from the sea. 

There was falling a gentle rain. It was an 
English summer rain; fierce in its rush, cold as an 
iceberg, persevering and penetrating. It rained 
down on an umbrella and up into it; it was in the 
faces of the pedestrians whichever way they moved; 
it rained from the interior of the busses outward; 
and left no opening unsearched. 

There came from out the rain into my office the 
dripping figure of a man. He was tall, thin, some- 
what stoop-shouldered, and dripping from his 
ragged attire as if he had just been hoisted from a 
horse-pond. His hat was slouch in style, venerable 
as to age, worn, much battered, and running off 
water like a roof. His hair was long and grizzled; 
he had a heavy moustache of the same hue, a goat- 
beard of great length; and on his cheeks a stubly 
growth of hair, so stiff that it looked as if he had 
piled his face preparatory to some building opera- 
tions. 



72 Walks About Chicago. 

" You are from the States? " he asked. 

"Yes, I have the honor to hail from that locality. 
How much do you want? " 

I recognized him at once as one of the several 
thousand Americans in London who are adrift in 
the world; and who are always in search of funds 
to return to the neighborhood of the setting sun. 

"Whatever you please. I have been stopping 
down at the country place of the Duke of Cork, and 
I came up here expecting to find a remittance at my 
bankers, but it was not there. Something's gone 
wrong, sure. My agent advised me that he had just 
concluded a sale at $2,000 a front foot for 500 lots in 
Chicago." 

" Oh, you are from Chicago, then? " 

" Yes, sir, I'm from Chicago. Do you know Chi- 
cago." 

I answered cautiously that I was a little acquaint- 
ed with that city, having once been through it some 
years ago. Every one of these American wanderers 
has a local habitation, which is usually one unknown 
in detail to the person of whom he solicits assist- 
ance. Thus I cunningly veiled my knowledge of 
the Garden City. It was not a busy moment with 
me just then. Bismarck was quiet. There were no 
war-clouds on the horizon of the czar. Dillon was 
in jail, and Parnell, for the instant, was not shak- 
ing his shillelah under the nose of the British lion. 
Having a little leisure, I determined to spend it in 
unmasking this pretender. 

" So you are from Chicago? " I continued. " Do 
you know the place pretty well? " 

" Know her! Mebbe I don't know Chicago! Why 
I know that ere town as well as if I had been her 
rather!" 



A Walk with a Stranger. 73 

" How long since you were there?" 

" It's a matter of a dozen years or so since I left. 
I was in command of a gunboat along with Farra- 
gut and " 

"Yes I know. All Americans like yourself who 
are hard up, left the States in command of a gun- 
boat or something of the sort ; but that doesn't mat- 
ter just now." 

"It's a fact stranger." 

" All right ; I know it's a fact. But that is of no 
account. Sit down over that tin boiler so you can 
drip off without creating a flood on the floor. Now 
tell me something about that wonderful city?" 

" I lived a leetle out of town on the perrary, near 
a tavern called the ' Bull's Head.' You know where 
that is, don't you?" 

"Can't say that I do." 

"Don't know the < Bull's Head' tavern! Why 
that's one of the fust taverns in Chicago !" 

" Never heard of it. I know the Palmer House 
and the Grand Pacific." 

" The which?" 

I repeated the names of these establishments. 

" You've got me there, stranger ! I never heard 
of them." 

" Are you sure you have ever been in Chicago?" 

"'Sure?' You becher your life ! I was born there, 
and I know every inch of her !" 

" All right, then. Tell me something more of the 
town." 

" I know the city like a knife. And besides that, 
everybody there knows me. I was ticket collector 
for Wood's Museum. You know Wood's Museum, 
don't you?" 

"Can't say that I do." 



?4 Walks About Chicago. 

"Don't know Wood's Museum !" he said in a tone 
of indignant astonishment. 

"No sir, I don't positively." 

"Of course you don't know Crosby's Opera 
house !" 

"No sir." 

" Nor the court-house with the jail under it !" 

"No sir." 

" Nor Arlington's ministrels !" 

" No sir." 

" Nor Jim Robinson's circus !" 

"No sir." 

" Nor the two big skating rinks !" 

"No sir." 

" Nor the velocipede schools !" 

" No sir." 

" Nor the big church opposite the court-house !" 

" Not much !" 

And thus he continued for half an hour naming 
places and men without limit. He was unmistakably 
a fraud of the first water. I let him run on as he 
spoke of a millionaire named Honore who owned 
thousands of acres close to the city limits, of some- 
body named Walker who was wealthier even than 
Honore ; of vast lines of horse-car stables that stood 
opposite the supposititious ' Bull's Head' tavern ; 
and of a thousand other things, equally astonishing 
and apochryphal. I was amused with his audacity, 
his invention, his evident belief that I was a ninny 
who could be taken in by his professions in regard 
to a city of which he evidently knew not even a 
brick or the color of its mud. 

"One thing you must know," he said at length, 
" and that is the beautiful, smooth, noiseless wooden 



A Walk with a Stranger. 75 

pavements which have been laid down in the city, 
and which are the very best thing " 

This was too much. This brazen lie was more 
than I could stand. I arose, opened the door, and 
said: 

" There! that will do! Now you get out! You 
are the biggest liar I ever met in all my travels. 
Get right out; if you open your mouth ever so little 
I will hand you over to that policeman. Git!" 

He gazed at me with a furious look in his glaring 
eyes; but the sight of the policeman was too much 
for him, and he departed without a word. 

I relate this incident for the benefit of those of 
my countrymen who may be abroad, and who may 
— as they will almost certainly — be exposed to the 
solicitations of pertinacious mendicants claiming to 
be Americans in need. It is not often that the 
American visitor is in a situation, as I was, to ex- 
pose the character of these people. Being a resi- 
dent of Chicago, and knowing the city as thoroughly 
as the farm on which I first saw the light, I was 
able to convict this pretended resident of Chicago 
of being a fraud without the smallest difficulty. 

But my position was a^peculiar one, for the reason 
that these beggars, in approaching an American 
visitor, as a rule, take the pains to post themselves 
in advance as to the residence of those whom they 
propose to victimize, so that they are prepared to 
locate their pretended residence in some other lo- 
cality. * 

We used to have great old times in this London 
office. Occasionally an Englishman would drop in 

*For the benefit of those not familiar with Chicago, or its early history, it 
may he stated that all the places, persons and things mentioned by jthe caller 
were noted in the„Chicago of a dozen or fifteen years ago. 



76 Walks About Chicago. 

to get some information on American affairs; and 
if there were any of the Chicago gang around he 
was sure to get all the information he could carry 
away — and generally a good deal more. 

One day there happened to call in a staid old chap 
who was in business in the city, and who had never 
been out of London, or at least had never been so 
far away but that he could get home to sleep the 
same night. There was also in the office at the same 
moment a young and robust liar connected with the 
Board of Trade, in Chicago, and who had run in to 
see a Chicago paper, and get the latest news in re- 
gard to the latest " corner." 

Two women called in one day and asked me if I 
could tell them the whereabouts of the husband of 
one of them who had eloped to America with some 
other woman. He had changed his name, but to 
what she did not know. She expected that I would 
be able to recognize him from the description she 
gave of his personal appearance. 

" Would you kindly tell me," said the English 
caller, " if you ever knew in the States a man 
named Johnson?" 

" What sort of a looking man was he?" broke in 
Young Chicago. 

" I cawn't say 'ow he would look at the present 
time. I 'aven't seen 'im for twenty years. He was 
my brother, and he went away to the States, and 
we 'aven't 'eard from 'im since." 

" Seems to me I knew a man named Johnson in 
Chicago," said Young Chicago, in a in* sing sort of 
a way. " Was he an Englishman?" 

" Yes," answered the ether, in an interested tone. 

" What was his first name?" 

" Tummas." 



A Walk with a Stranger. 77 

" Tummas? Tummas? I'm not exactly sure, but 
it seems to me that the Johnson I knew had that 
sort of a handle to his name." 

"I beg pardon!" 

" I say that I think that the first name of the 
Johnson I knew is Tummas. Do you think he had 
a strawberry mark on his right arm ?" 

" I beg pardon!" 

" I mean did he have any mark that you would 
know him by?" 

" I fancy not." 

And thus the conversation went on for a time, 
until finally the Englishman said: 

Do you live in Chicago?" pronouncing the "a" in 
the name of the place so as to correspond with the 
sound of "a" in at. 

" Yes, sir; you bet your boots!" 

" I beg pardon!" 

" Yes, sir, I live in Chicago every time — that is to 
say, I live in that wonderful city." 

"And where is Chicago? Is it near New York?" 

" Yes, it is near New York; that is to say, too 
near for the comfort of New York." 

" I beg pardon!" 

" What I mean is, that Chicago, although a thou- 
sand miles from New York, is still so near that city 
that the trade of New York is gradually dropping 
off, its streets are becoming pasturage for stray 
cows and pigs, and the most of its once happy resi- 
dents have become paupers. Why, they take up a 
collection every Sabbath in the churches of our city 
for the poor of New York, those who have been 
made paupers owing to the rivalry of Chicago." 

"Now, really!" 



78 Walks About Chicago. 

" Fact, sir. Oh, Chicago is a buster, I tell you ! " 

"I beg pardon!" 

" Chicago is the greatest city in this world, or any 
other one; that is what I'm trying to tell you. Why, 
did you never hear of Chicago? " 

"Well, now really, I cawn't say that I'ave. And 
'ow large is it?" 

"How large? That's something nobody knows. 
It grows so fast that they can't take any census. 
Four years ago they commenced to take the census. 
They appointed four thousand men who had orders 
to commence at the centre of the city and work out- 
wards towards the suburbs in every direction. They 
all went to work, but the city has grown so fast 
that they have never been able to catch up with the 
outskirts." 

" God bless me ! How extraordinary ! " 

"Yes, sir! Most of them are now so far from 
home that they send in their returns by mail; sev- 
eral have died, and not one of them has seen his 
family for over two years. And then the rate at 
which new buildings grow up is something astonish- 
ing ! You have heard of the great fire, haven't 
you?" 

" The great fire in London, do you mean? " 

"No: the great fire in Chicago." 

"Keally, I cawn't say I 'ave." 

"Well, sir, there was a fire there a few years ago, 
and in one night it burned up every blessed building 
in the city, and the wind blew all the ashes away, 
so that when you looked over the ground the next 
morning, you couldn't see anything but holes in the 
ground where there had once been cellars. A good 
many took these holes and inverted them, and used 



A Walk with a Stranger, 79 

them for shops for business till they could get lum- 
ber to build something else." 

"Dear me! Really? And how did the people 
live?" 

"Well, sir, that is something quite providential. 
There is a big lake close to the city, and the fire was 
so tremendous hot that it converted the lake into 
boiling water, which cooked all the fish, so that for 
the next two months the people subsisted on boiled 
trout and catfish." 

' * Really ? How very extraordinary ! " 

" You can bet your pile on that ! " 

"I beg pardon!" 

" I mean that such is the fact. Well, sir, it was a 
sight to see that city built up! There wasn't room 
for all that wanted to build at the same time, so 
that a good many built their basements, excavations 
and all, out of town, on the prairie, and then moved 
them into their places in town on rollers." 

"Ow! Really?" 

"Yes! Everything was favorable to building 
operations that winter. The water in the lake kept 
at the boiling point for two or three months, and the 
masons used the hot water to mix the mortar with. 
People utilized everything. Before the fire the 
number of rats in Chicago was simply incredible, 
and they had holes which ran under and through 
the streets in every possible direction. The thor- 
oughfares of the city were so crowded that it was 
impossible to haul water for building operations. 
Now, what do you think was done? They just drew 
out these rat-holes, screwed them together, and used 
them as pipes for bringing water from the lake to 
the various points where it was needed." 



80 Walks About Chicago. 

The Englishman endeavored to say something, 
but the words froze in his throat. 

"Ina couple of months," continued the board-of- 
trade man, " all the burned city was rebuilt. You 
never saw anything like it, nor any other man. 
Everything was of the finest marble, with mansard 
roofs, iron dogs on the front steps, and Steinway 
grands in the parlors. All this was done before the 
people had got the smell of the fire out of their 
clothes." 

The Englishman still said nothing, but sat with 
bulging eyes and stared at the speaker. 

" A curious thing about Chicago," said the veraci- 
ous narrator, " is the way in which we have raised 
the grade of the city. When the aborigenes, some 
fifteen years ago, occupied the site of Chicago, it 
was considerably below the level of the lake. This 
sort of thing wouldn't do you know, because we 
must have drainage. Well, sir, they didn't have 
the least bit of trouble. They saw that the wagons 
from the country were constantly bringing in mud, 
and thus slowly raising the height of theastreets. 
They have depended on that ever since. The streets 
are never cleaned; and the consequence is that all 
the time the site of the city has been growing 
higher, and the surrounding country lower, until 
now, when it is the fact that Chicago stands on a 
hill some sixty feet above the lake. We now have 
a natural drainage in every direction, so that city is 
one of the best-drained, and the very cleanest city 
in the world." 

" The listener was still stolid and silent with his 
eyes glued on the other. 

"It's a great city, you can bet your boots! Why, 
I've gone down town by a vacant lot, on some 



A Walk with a Stranger. 81 

street, in the morning, and when I went back at 
night by the same route, there would be a marble- 
front on the lot, and there would be lights in the 
parlor, and people dancing to music as if they had 
lived there half a century. We've got a fire depart- 
ment which is so perfect that by means of electri- 
city, an engine always gets notice of a fire some ten 
minutes before it breaks out, and is thus able to get 
on the ground, hitch to a plug, and have a couple of 
axmen on the roof by the time the thing com- 
mences! They have an ingenious way of keeping 
a member of the fire department clean. There is a 
pole down which they slide when they are called 
from their beds for a fire. This pole is lubricated 
with the very finest French toilette soap, which 
is taken off on the hands and faces of the men as 
they descend. When they get to the fire, they are 
washed off by the hose, and in this way, they are 
receiving constant and thorough ablutions. Over 
there, the hotels are so large that guests who live 
in one wing when they are in a hurry to communi- 
cate with some one in another wing, always gain 
time by sending their matter through the mails. In 
every house, there is a small electrical apparatus 
which communicates with everywhere. By touch- 
ing the different buttons, you can order a horse and 
buggy from the stable, a mustard plaster from the 
druggist, a prescription from the doctor, a clean 
shave, a bath and a shampoo from the barber." 

Here there was a deep groan from the English- 
man, and then he fell heavily to the floor. The 
board-of -trade man loosened his necktie, and then 
went off to hunt up the coroner. 

I have not seen him since; and thus was obliged 
to bury the Englishman at my own expense. 



82 Walks About Chicago. 

It is just twenty-five years hence ; that is to say, 
it is the year 1906. There have been some changes 
in the map of the world since the date when Gar- 
field was assassinated, and Ireland was in the throes 
of land revolution. 

Since that time, the land question has been settled 
in Ireland by the removal en masse to the United 
States, and the location of the greater portion of the 
inhabitants in the city of Chicago. Germany, too, 
has undergone a change. The Brandenburg dynasty 
is still on the throne ; and the grandson of Bismarck 
has just been appointed to a high position in the 
diplomatic service after having run off with the 
wife of the secretary of the interior. But Germany 
is but sparsely settled, the majority of its people 
having emigrated to the United States, and settled 
in Chicago. 

Chicago has sustained many very important 
changes. It is, as it was a quarter of a century ago, 
divided into three main parts ; or rather into two 
parts and a fraction. One of the main parts is oc- 
cupied by the Irish element, the other by the Ger- 
mans, while in the fractional portion are to be found 
a few of the original American contingent. The 
Germans occupy all the North side out to, and be- 
yond what was formerly known as Evanston. They 
have also extended west and south till they now fill up 
the region north of what was once known as Madison 
street. South of what was known as. Madison street 
lies the Irish section. The former residents of the 
" Green Isle" and their descendants occupy all the 
country to the west and south. The native elements 
hold the narrow strip between the lake and the South 
branch — such was its ancient name — an d after ieav- 
ing the river at about what used to be Twenty-sec- 



A Walk with a Stranger. 83 

ond street, the west line dividing the Irish and the 
Americans is along the old ground once occupied by 
the Chicago and Rock Island railway. 

That portion of the city occupied by the Germans 
is now known as Teutonia ; that which is held by 
the Irish is called Hibernia ; and that small section 
pertaining to the American residents is designated 
as the "First Ward." 

What was Madison street has been widened into 
a boulevard of great width, and, as said, forms the 
dividing line between Teutonia and Hibernia. On 
either side of this boulevard for a distance of one 
thousand feet there are no houses. The vacant 
space on the north side is planted, in season, with 
cabbages; that on the south side with potatoes. In 
the centre of this boulevard, and running its entire 
length, is a wall of solid masonry sixty feet in 
height for the purpose of preventing excursions 
from one side, or country, into the other. 

The form of the municipal government is now es- 
sentially changed. It provides that there shall be 
always two mayors and the one twenty-fifth of a 
third one ; and that one of the whole mayors shall be 
from Teutonia, and the other whole one from Hiber- 
nia ; and the fractional one from First Ward. The 
character of the common council is also very materi- 
ally altered. There are two bodies and a fractional 
one corresponding to the mayoral formation and 
who legislate for the entire city. 

A provision in the new Constitution parcels out 
all the municipal offices between Hibernia and Teu- 
tonia, it being arranged so that each side shall have 
two-thirds of all the offices. To meet the demands 
of a situation in which there are four thirds, the 
bodies are allowed to create new offices ad libitum. 



84 Walks About Chicago. 

It has also been decided that there shall be an 
equitable division of the work of serving the coun- 
try. Under this system, a citizen who gives his 
time to his country as an official, is exempted from 
the payment of all taxes. As a result, First Ward, 
having no officials, has to pay for the support of the 
municipal government. For the purposes of gov- 
ernment, the city is divided into two parts, to-wit, 
official and taxable. Hibernia and Teutonia consti- 
tute the former, First Ward the latter. 

The old form of public schools has been aban- 
doned, except in First Ward. In Teutonia, there 
are only gymnasiums and Kindergarten schools. In 
Hibernia there are only parochial establishments for 
the education of children, and grand colleges under 
religious supervision, and which are supported by 
public taxation — in First Ward. There are twelve 
hundred cathedrals in Hibernia, and not a single, 
church of any kind in Teutonia. 

All the Jews have been run out of Teutonia, and 
all the landlords out of Hibernia. 

Every occupant of a house in Hibernia has it not 
only rent free, but he receives a bonus for living in 
it. Those who own property have formed a league 
for the purpose of getting a reduction in the amount 
of the bonus which they have to pay the occupants of 
their houses. They have some representatives in 
the legislative body who are known as " obstruct- 
ives." Many of them are in prison, and there is a 
determination on the part of the government of Hi- 
bernia to put them down at any cost. 

The chief industry among the Hibernians is in the 
management of distilleries; that of the Teutonians ? 
the manipulation of breweries. 



A Walk with a Stranger 85 

North of the wall the German language only is 
taught in all educational establishments; south of 
it, the single language taught and spoken is the 
Celtic. In First Ward, German and Celtic are 
taught in the public schools — such being the law; 
English may be used, but not in any of the official 
transaction. All public documents are filed in du- 
plicate, one in German and one in Celtic. There 
are two newspapers outside of the First Ward; one 
is The Green Banner, which is devoted to the sup- 
port of the platform of more offices for the Hiber- 
nians, and the other, The Yellow Standard, which 
supports the platform of more offices for the Teu- 
tonians. There are several newspapers in First 
Ward devoted to the proposition that taxation for 
municipal purposes should not exceed one-half the 
current earnings of each taxpayer, and that a mu- 
nicipal debt should not be in excess of five hundred 
per cent of the actual value of all the real and per- 
sonal property subject to taxation. 

First Ward contains the main business portion of 
the city, and constitutes, as already said, the tax- 
able department of the municipality. Every resi- 
dent of this part is taxed on what business he does 
do; and rather more on what he doesn't do. When 
a street needs paving, or repaving, in Teutonia or 
Hibernia, an estimate is made of the cost, and then 
the amount is assessed against the street frontage 
of First Ward. Everything is subject to taxation 
in this portion of the city. A building is taxed so 
much for its height, so much for its depth and 
breadth, so much for the distance it goes into the 
ground, and so much for the distance it sticks out. 
There is an extra assessment if a building is above 
a certain size, and something extra if it falls below. 



86 Walks About Chicago. 

There is a tax on some dogs, and one on no dogs. A 
man with a large family pays a certain amount; and 
a man without any family is assessed according to 
the size of the family which the assessor thinks he 
should have. A man pays a tax on his property; 
then he mortgages it to raise money to pay his 
taxes, and then he is assessed on the original value 
of his property, and likewise on the amount of the 
mortgage. 

Assessments for taxation are made by two assess- 
ors, one from Hibernia, and one from Teutonia. 
The highest assessment is the one which is adopted. 
In order to stimulate the assessors, it is enacted that 
the one who makes the lowest assessment gets no 
pay for his labor, while the one who makes the 
highest returns receives a bonus of ten per cent, on 
the valuation which he brings in, and which is 
added to the tax and collected by the same process. 

Every resident of First Ward, and being tainted 
with a descent from a family which has lived in the 
United States more than thirty years, is, together 
with his descendants, forever debarred from hold- 
ing any office to which there is attached any profit 
or emolument. If he have an ancestry of less, than 
thirty years' residence in the country, and cannot 
speak English well, and is perfect in German, or 
Celtic, then, if he reside in First Ward, he is al- 
lowed a rebate of one per cent, in his assessments 
both on taxable property and for campaign pur- 
poses. 

It would be of great interest to go more into de- 
tails as to the Chicago of 1906, or twenty-five years 
hence. Enough has been said to give people an 
idea of the growth of our great city, and to what a 



A Walk with a Stranger. 87 

glorious future it will reach within this very limited 
period. 

I met an old settler the other night, in a beer sa- 
loon, on the West side. The veteran was vis a vis 
with a glass of lager. There was an expression of 
ennui in his face. He seemed as he were wearied, 
digusted about something ; and had not quite made 
up his mind what to do about it. 

"Hello, Brown, old boy. What is the matter 
with you? You look as if you had a fit of the dumps, 
and didn't care if the world does come to an end on 
the fifteenth proximo." 

He looked at me with a sort of a faded, lack-lus- 
tre expression that was painful. I had known him 
for years as one of the very liveliest of the old boys 
within the city limits ; one who was on hand on all 
occasions irrespective of the hour of the day or 
night, whether in midsummer or midwinter, regard- 
less of whether the thermometer was ambitiously 
climbing among the hundreds or skulking down be- 
low the nothings. Besides all that, he is well 
fixed ; he has a fine stone-front on the South side ; 
he had a large and accomplished family, and is 
reputed to have a bank account of no mean dimen- 
sions. What could be the matter with a man hav- 
ing all these attachments, a good constitution, and 
a head which no amount of all-night business could 
swell beyond its natural dimensions ? 

"Well, that's just what's the matter," said the 
old boy as he languidly motioned me to take a seat 
by the table. " Here, you ! twzei lager ! The fact 
of it is that I am sick. I'm going to emigrate !" 

"' Going to emigrate?' What in the name of 
blazes do you mean by that ?" 



88 Walks About Chicago. 

"Just what I say. I'm going to pull out o' this 
town just as sure as my name is Brown, and that 
mighty soon, too, I tell you that !" 

" Well, now go ahead and unload. Something is 
up when you begin to talk in that sort of style. Let 
us have it. What is it ?" 

"Well, then, the fact is that I'm tired of Chicago." 

"What! you tired of Chicago! You, the man 
that has been here since the Pottowatomies vacated, 
who are one of the foundations of the city, who has 
done more to build it up than half the rest of the 
people here, who has got plenty of money and all 
that sort of thing ! What, you of all the others?" 

"Yes sir, it's me that's talking in that strain. 
The fact is Chicago isn't any more any place for 
me." 

" What do you mean?" 

" Well, as a matter of fact, the town has out- 
grown me ; it's gone so fast that I haven't been able 
to keep up with it. I'm just as much out of place 
here as a lobster in boiling water." 

" Well, now old horse, consider that this is a hall, 
and that you have hired it, are behind the desk, and 
that you have the floor all to yourself. Let us hear 
from you." 

" What I complain of, is that it isn't the old town. 
It used to be a place where you. could have some 
rational amusement. Now what can you do? Noth- 
ing ! Don't you remember when we used to get the 
boys together and start out with a couple of good 
rat dogs, and then take the town from midnight till 
sunrise, takin' a drink every time the dogs caught a 
rat? Of course you remember." 

" It seems to me," said I, "that you are going a 
little back of my time." 



A Walk with a Stranger. 89 

"O, bother ! You were there the same as I was ! 
Where can you find any more of that kind of fun? 
There are no rats, and no saloons open if there were 
any rats. They are changing everything. Where, for 
instance, is the old gang that used to get together 
under the old Tremont afore they raised her out of 
the mud, and discuss Chicago, swapping lies and 
corner lots, until broad day light, and then every man 
going off home a couple of thousand dollars richer 
— in real estate — than he was when they came 
together? No more of that now. You can't set 
around with a jackknife, and a piece of board, and 
whittle, and lie, and take in a greeny from the east 
with a couple of acres of unimproved real estate. 
No, sir; you can't ! Why all our industries are 
gone ! " 

"What industries do you mean?" 

" Why all the industries which we used to follow. 
There is no more of them industries, and there is no 
money to be made in a legitimate way. Why, I tell 
you, it was a mighty poor day, fifteen or twenty 
years ago, when a smart man couldn't make from 
five to fifty thousand dollars a day ! There's many 
a forenoon when I have whittled out more money 
than you can shake a stick at, just by swapping a 
lot down town for one the other side of the street a 
little further up, and when me and the other fellow 
made a small fortune by the exchange. That was 
a business that ivas a business ! All the capital 
needed was a corner lot somewhere, and a credit at 
the nearest bar. Business ! Why, with such a cap- 
ital a man was independently rich. It may not have 
been the case that his actual, available assets were 
so very enormous, providing he had been sold out by 
the sheriff; but there were all the possibilities of the 



90 Walks About Chicago. 

situation, all the benefits dreamed of and hoped for, 
and these were always up among the millions. 
There's many a time I've gone to bed on an empty 
stomach; but I was a millionaire all the same, or at 
least was to be the next day. 

"Wow, what are people doing for a living? Just 
downright slavery; that's it, and nothing else ! The 
old business is busted higher than a kite ! The time 
has come when a corner lot excites no speculation or 
curiosity, except on the part of the tax assessor. 
You can't do any more with a corner lot now, than 
you can fly by gumming a goose quill under your 
arm. Unimproved real estate is dropped down until 
an acre of it is hardly a good collateral for a cock- 
tail. To do business in these times, you have got to 
have something besides a jackknife, a strip of shin- 
gle, and sixty front feet of dirt on some future bou- 
levard. You have got to have a big balance at some 
of the marble-front banks; you have got to have 
your name in one of the books of some of these spy^ 
ing commercial agencies, with a lot of figgers and 
letters after it; you have got to work sixteen hours 
a day for a year to get ten per cent, on your money, 
and then you don't get it ! " 

" Don't you think Chicago, with its present won- 
derful business and improvements is an advance on 
the old Chicago?" 

" Indeed I don't ! I'm sick of the present condi- 
tion of things. Where can you go now, and drop 
into a cosy lunch-house, where you can put your 
feet up on a chair, spit all over the floor, and feel as 
much at home as though you were the proprietor of 
the shebang? What fun do I have down at that 
fancy stone dungeon where I live? Not a bit! 
When I was rich only in prospective increase in 



A Walk with a Stranger. 91 

real estate, I lived in a one story cottage, two rooms 
deep, with the old woman — I beg her pardon, with 
Mrs. De Jimson Brown — and the four brats, we 
was happy, I can tell you! There wasn't one tooth- 
brush to the dozen of us; we just saved napkins by 
not having any, and by wiping our mouths off on our 
sleeves; and when we had any slops we didn't have 
to pile 'em up in a dry-goods box in the alley, but we 
just dumped them out back on the prairie. We 
weren't troubled with sewer-gas, or any such non- 
sense. The latch-string always hung outside, and 
there was almost always somebody a pullin' at it, 
too, you bet! The boys used to drop in whenever 
they had a mind to. They'd just walk in without 
knocking, help themselves to a chair, or turn over a 
bucket if there wasn't a chair handy, and make 
themselves at home. We'd light up some pipes, put 
our feet on the window-sills, and be comfortable. 
In them days the old girl was around with a quarter 
section of her hair flying one way, mebbe with an old 
slipper on one foot and a broken down shoe, or, as 
like as not, nothing on the other. She didn't mind 
pipes in them days, indeed she didn't! She'd sit 
around with the rest of us and talk hoss and real 
estate as glib as though she was in the business. 
And every once in a while she'd let up for a minit 
or two to spank a youngun, or swab off its nose with 
the skirt of her dress, or something of the sort, and 
then go right on with the hoss talk as if nothing had 
happened. Now, you know Mrs. De Jimpson Brown 
pretty near as well as I do. Is it your conscientious 
opinion that one of them old chums, with his breeches 
in his boots, the yaller mud all over him up to his 
eyebrows, and his coat slung over his arm, could 
walk into the front room down there on the avenue, 



92 Walks About Chicago. 

put his feet up on the window-sill, pull out a black 
pipe, light it by scratching a match on the seat of his 
trousers, and then ' get away with it ' if Mrs. Be J. 
B. was in that neighborhood?" 

Had I been disposed to interfere in a family mat- 
ter, I might have very conscientiously responded in 
the negative. But I said nothing, merely trying to 
put on a look which might be construed to mean 
sympathy, acquiescence, or almost anything else. I 
knew too much of that awful matron to say any- 
thing which might possibly at sometime be repeated 
to her; hence I preserved a diplomatic silence. 

"Oh, but I am just sick of the whole business! 
My gals have been to Yurroop, and since they've 
come back, I'm too vulgar for anything, I am! 
Instead of havin' her hair a-flying over one shoulder 
or the other, as she used to, the old woman now 
wears it in semibreves over her f orred, and close 
down to her eyes, and then at night she takes it off 
and lays it away in a box. She is whitewashed like 
a new town-pump, and washes her face with a dry 
rag. When I want to pull a pipe, I've got to go out 
in the back yard. We don't have any more social 
games of draw in the front room, or in any other 
room, for the matter of that. There's always a lot 
of thin-legged galoots hanging around the house 
evenings, and I've no more show there than a sick 
rat among a half acre of tarriers. Oh, I'm used up 
with this new-fangled city! Marble fronts every- 
where! Silk curtains, mahogany furniture, and not 
a single circus, where you can go and have some 
fun with the boys! I want some of the old times. 
I want to go out agin after midnight and hoop up 
the rats for drinks! I want to fall off a sidewalk, 
muddy my clothes, and go home a-howlin', and have 



A Walk with a Stranger. 



93 



Mrs. De Jimpson Brown pull off my boots, and 
put me in my little bed! That's what I want! " 

"And that's just the sort of thing you hadn't bet- 
ter harness on to at the present time." I responded 
warningly. 

"Don't I know that? Don't I? Oh, no! Mebbe I 
don't!'" 

And then he went out, and very soon I followed 
both him and his example. 







ARMY AND OTHER SKETCHES. 



£ ^ C=^< 4 3 



OS 




A BOHEMIAN AMONG THE REBELS, 



£ NE sunny afternoon in September of 1861, I 
was sauntering by the Planters' Hotel, in 
St. Louis, when I suddenly found myself 
face to face with a short, broad-shouldered 
officer, wearing the uniform of a brigadier- 
general, and moving .forward at a tremendous 
gait. 

" Hallo, General!" 
" Hallo, W— !" 

"Where you falling back to at this pace? This 
beats the time you made getting out of Wilson's 
creek." 

"Fremont's just ordered me up the country. I'll 
be off in five minutes. Come along with us. Train 
leaves at 3:30. Just time for a little toddy." 

We went inside, had a " little toddy " mixed, and 
then the general touched my glass and said: 
"How!" 

And, at the same time, I touched his glass and re- 
marked: 
"How!" 

And then the toddy was transferred. 
I went down to Barnum's, packed up a blanket, a 
clean collar, a bottle of whisky, a tooth-brush, and, 
just a moment before train time, was deposited at 
the depot of the North Missouri railroad. 



98 Army and Other Sketches. 

General Sturgis was already there. Two Ohio 
regiments of infantry were embarked on freight 
cars. 

Sturgis introduced me to such of the staff as I did 
not know. We all took seats in an aristocratic 
caboose, and in a little while were whirling toward 
St. Charles, on the Missouri river. 
. And thus began a journey of whose termination 
I then had as little knowledge as I now have of the 
state of the weather on the next anniversary of our 
glorious independence. 

We stopped at Mexico awhile, a week, maybe. 
Then we went up to Macon City. We were after 
some bushwhackers whom we didn't catch. Price 
was closing in on Mulligan at Lexington, and 
Sturgis had gone up from St. Louis to try and keep 
the bushwhackers of north-eastern Missouri from 
going to Price's assistance. 

The gentlemanly cut-throat whom we were after 
got off one night, and when the fact was discovered 
he was miles away, heading for Lexington. As we 
were infantry and he was mounted, it was not 
deemed advisable to chase him. 

Courier with news to Fremont. 

Courier back in a day or two with orders to go to 
Mulligan's relief. 

And then we incontinently started for Lexington. 

We took the cars to Utica, on the Hannibal and 
St. Joe railroad. There we left the road and started 
across the country to Lexington. The distance was 
about 50 miles. 

We left at Utica Colonel John Groesbeck, with one- 
half of his regiment to guard our rear. With the 
Other half of his regiment, and the whole of tha 



A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 99 

other regiment, we started to relieve Mulligan, be- 
sieged by something over 20,000 men. 

To accomplish all this, we had 1,200 men who had 
never heard anything more warlike than a Chinese 
firecracker. We had of six and twelve pounders,none; 
or any other kind of cannon We had of light and 
heavy cavalry, dragoons, and other mounted men, 
none. Sturgis had a horse, and I had a mule. We 
were the only mounted men in an expedition having 
for its object the penetration of an unknown and hos- 
tile country, and the rout or capture of 20,000 rebels. 

But Fremont so ordered, and on we went. 

We pushed on like a drove of calves. The Buck- 
eyes were spoiling for a fight the first day. One or 
two of them got a fight. They upset a bee-gum and 
stole the honey, and got stung. Sturgis halted the 
column long enough to cane a couple of the bee 
thieves, to put their officers under arrest, and to 

d — n vigorously all thieving sons of , Dutch or 

otherwise. And then we moved on. 

That night, when all was still, there came through 
the air, from the south, a slight pulsation. It was 
like a faint tapping in the distance. In the bustle 
of starting in the morning, the pulsation was no 
longer heard. An hour after starting it was again 
heard faintly. It grew from a pulsation into a faint 
sound. Then it grew distinguishable. It finally 
resolved itself into the roar of a gun. 

We were 35 miles from Lexington, and yet the 
sound of the gun came across the prairie, at inter- 
vals of ten or fifteen minutes, with startling clear- 
ness. 

Sturgis brightened up. " So long as we hear that 
gun," said he, "it's a sign that Mulligan holds 
out." 



100 . Army and Other Sketches. 

Some of the Buckeyes heard it, and were not so 
near spoiling for a fight as on the day previous. 

It was on Tuesday, September 17th, that we thus 
pushed on within sound of the heavy gun. Nothing 
of particular import happened. Occasionally a 
butternut, on a lean horse, met us. He was always 
a Union man. Was always looking for stray horses. 
The first one or two of these gentlemen were per- 
mitted to depart. The rest were invited to stay. To 
secure their compliance, they were dismounted and 
requested to fall into the ranks. 

That night, no occurrence of note. The next 
morning, we were up and away at dawn. The heavy 
detonations of the gun still continued to time our 
march and our anticipations. Soon after daylight, 
we saw before us, across the prairie, a dense 
line of timber. It marked, as our involuntary pris- 
oners told us, the "bottom" lands of the Missouri 
river. 

On that Wednesday morning I had eaten only a 
moderate breakfast. I had reason afterward to re- 
gret that I had not eaten a heartier one. 

Just before we reached the line of timber, we saw 
a man watching us from the road in advance. Two 
or three men mounted on the horses of our prisoners, 
quietly made a detour, headed the gentleman off 
and, soon after, brought him back. He said he 
lived at a little town named Richmond, just in 
advance of us. He took General Sturgis aside, and 
communicated something to him. Then the man was 
ordered to follow us, and we went on. 

"See here," said the general. "We are in a 
pocket. This man tells me that from Richmond 
to Lexington it is seven miles, and all the way 
through the bottom. He says the rebels know of our 



A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 101 

coming, and some 5,000 men are in ambush along 
the road. If we can fight our way through 5,000 
men with 1.200 green troops, we shall reach the 
river. The rebels have all the boats, and have 
cannon. We can't get across if we ever get to the 
bank." 

Just about then the head of the column entered 
the timber. As it did so, the tinkle of a cow-bell 
broke the stillness to our left, and a little way in the 
wood. Another was almost instantly heard from 
some point beyond it, and then a third coming 
faintly from the same direction. This direction was 
toward Lexington. Our approach was evidently 
being signaled to the party in ambush. The hollow 
clamor of these bells seemed to have in them some- 
thing inexpressibly portentous of evil. 

We soon reached Richmond. A halt was ordered, 
and the citizens shortly before captured, invited 
Sturgis to his house to take some champagne. He 
went, and so did I. Two or three other good fellows 
joined the procession. The champagne was excel- 
lent for that section, and plenty of it. Very soon we 
had from one to two quarts each snugly put away 
under our waistbands. 

About this time Sturgis concluded he could not 
whip 5,000 veterans with 1,200 green volunteers, and 
cross a wide river without boats whose passage was 
disputed by cannon. Thereupon he concluded to 
take his little force, march to the right, and go up 
to Kansas City. 

Meanwhile I had held some interesting converse 
with our entertainer, the result whereof became 
soon evident. I approached the general : 

" General, I believe, if you don't object. I will go 
on to Lexington." 



102 Army and Other Sketches. 

"On to Lexington? On to h — 1, you mean!" 

" No, Sir; not h — 1, but Lexington, I'm a news- 
paper correspondent, — a non-combatant you know. 
I want to see the fight." 

" Well, old Price'll hang you for a spy in twenty 
minutes." 

But I would not listen to the sage advice of the 
somewhat offended cavalryman. Finally, telling 
me to go to the devil, if I was determined to, he bade 
me a gruff farewell. He marched up the river 
toward Kansas City. 

Accompanied by my friend of the champagne 
bottles, I pushed toward Lexington. 

My hospitable friend had kindly exchanged my 
mule for a horse. We were both well mounted, and 
we went down the " bottom " road " howling." 

Nearly or quite two quarts of champagne were 
boiling through my brain, whose result was a desire 
to gallop like the wind, and to yell "like the d — 1" 
at intervals of about ten seconds. 

We soon reached a butternut picket, at a little 
doggery or grocery by the roadside. The rate at 
which we were riding, the direction of our route, 
and the amount of yelling which we were perpe- 
trating would have passed us through any rebel 
picket from Bull Run to Fort Smith. 

With a wild cheer for the Plutonian regions, we 
dashed through the picket and on toward Lexington. 
Despite the excitement and the rate of speed, I had 
time to notice that every tree and fallen log, along 
the road, was occupied by a butternut, with a shot- 
gun or a squirrel-rifle. Sturgis would have had as 
much " show " among these gentlemen as a rat-ter- 
rier in a hornet's nest. 



A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 103 

The rapidity of the ride cooled me somewhat, and 
when we reached the river I was in a condition to 
take observations. Opposite, on high bluffs, was 
Lexington. There seemed a vigorous Fourth of 
July celebration in operation. There was a frequent 
explosion of cannon, and an incessant rattle of small 
arms. 

The ferry-boat, with steam up, was waiting at the 
bank. We went aboard, and soon after steamed to 
the other shore. 

The streets were full of people. They were almost 
without exception, sunburnt, butternnt men, who 
carried double-barrelled shot-guns, or a rifle, and 
had revolvers, or horse-pistols, and bowie-knives 
buckled on their waists. 

My companion and myself pushed through the 
crowd to the headquarters of Price. They were up 
stairs, in a building on the main street. A single 
sentinel, armed with a United States musket and a 
cavalry sabre, stood at the street entrance. 

Bidding me wait his return, my companion, upon 
mentioning that he wished to see General Price, was 
permitted to pass in without difficulty. In a few 
minutes he returned, and we ascended the stairs in 
company. Entering a door at the left, I found my- 
self in a spacious room, near the street, and in which 
was seated an elderly gentleman in his shirt-sleeves, 
and with gray vest and pantaloons. About him 
were grouped a half-dozen men, most of whom wore 
sabres and revolvers, and some sort of gray or brown 
uniform. 

My companion led me up to the elderly gentle- 
man, and said: 

"General Price, this is the prisoner I spoke 
about." 



104 Army and Other Sketches. 

The old man looked at me keenly, and said: 

"Who are you?" 

"Well, general, I am not, as I suppose, a pris- 
oner. I came here of my free will. I am the cor- 
respondent of the . I have come voluntarily to 

your camp, trusting to your well-known chivalry, 
and relying upon my character as the member of a 
non-combatant profession." 

" What is your name?" 

I gave it. 

"Your residence?" 

I told him. 

" You came with General Sturgis from St. Louis?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" How many men has he?" 

" Pardon me if I decline to answer." 

" Which way is he going?" 

"You'll excuse me, General, but I can give you 
no information whatever as to General Sturgis." 

"Ah! Now are you sure that you are not sent 
here by General Sturgis to find out my forces?" 

"I can only assure you, sir, upon my honor, that 
I have come simply as a correspondent, and that I 
have no intention whatever of playing the spy, 
either in your favor or that of the Federals." 

There was something in the looks of Price that 
satisfied me that he did not believe me. He was 
about to speak again, when one of his staff inquired: 

"You say your name is ? " 

"Yes, sir." 

"Were you at the battle of Wilson's Creek?" 

"Yes." 

" Did you write the account of the battle which 
was copied afterward in the St. Louis Bepublican?" 

"I did." 



A Bohemian Among the Rebels. i05 

The speaker turned to General Price. 

" General," said he, " I will say this much for the 
gentleman. That account was a particularly fair 
one, and seemed to be written by a man disposed to 
do justice to both sides." 

General Price reflected a few moments, and then 
whispered aside with some of his officers. Finally 
he said: 

" Major Savery, you will take charge of this man, 
and be careful to treat him like a gentleman." 

He bowed courteously and moved to another part 
of the room. Major Savery, a man with a huge 
crimson sash worn from his shoulder, a revolver, 
and a cavalry sabre, led me into the street. I found 
that he was the provost marshal. He led me across 
the street, and then up stairs, into a front room. 
The door was guarded by a man with a crimson 
sash, a revolver, a carbine, a sabre. 

" There," said the major, "you can look out of 
the window and see the fight. Make yourself com- 
fortable. I must look around. 

He went out. 

I went to the window. The college, the boarding 
house and grounds occupied by Mulligan were all 
visible. I could see the smoke of the batteries, hear 
the crack of small arms, and see the Confederates 
swarming in the ravines and the timber. I could 
see the hospital with its yellow flag, and could, in 
fine, overlook the fight very much as if it were a 
picture. 

Mulligan had already been cut off from water for 
two days. I thought he must be terribly thirsty, 
which reminded me of the fact that I was in the 
same condition. It was close upon night, and I had 
had nothing to eat since daylight, or to drink save 



106 Army and Other Sketches. 

feverish champagne. I appealed to the guard to get 
me something. He could not leave his post. 

Darkness came, and with it some members of the 
provost guard. They had heard my story from 
Savery, and they regarded me very favorably. 

I think that, in those days, I could swear, and talk 
horse equal to the average. Therefore, despite my 
aristocratic paper collar of four days' age, I "took" 
with these "boys." They surrounded me. We told 
rough stories, played seven-up, discussed the poli- 
tical situation, and I was unanimously voted a " h — 1 
of a fellow," as somebody worded it. 

My popularity was at high tide, when the door 
was opened, and a lusty nigger shot in like a batter- 
ing ram. He was evidently moving under the pro- 
pulsive suasion of a powerful kick. He picked him- 
self up with a howl of terror, looked wildly around, 
and saw me. His black face lightened with a gleam 
of satisfaction, and he said : 

" Hullo, cap'en, is you here too?" 

I stared vacantly at the grinning face. To me it 
had no more elements which I could recognize than 
the sooty bottom of a potato-skillet. 

"Whar you from, boy?" asked one of the guards. 

" Pse from de fort." 

"Captured?" 

"Yis." 

" Do you know this man?" continued the ques- 
tioner, pointing to me. 

" Know him? Of course I does. He's capin of 
<de ban'." 

My late admirers understood it. After all, I was 
one of Mulligan's men, had got out some way, com- 
municated with Sturgis, and was on my way back. 
My popularity was ruined. They began to look 



A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 10T 

angrily at me. I was a d — d Yankee, as one man 
expressed it. They left me. 

As for me, I took a good look at the grinning nig- 
ner, got my right foot ready for a kick, which I cal- 
culated should be the most tremendous kick of mod- 
dern or ancient times ; hesitated a moment whether 
I should plant it on the shins, or a broader part of 
the imbecile African, and then — I walked away, 
feeling the utter impossibility of any kick propelled 
by a human leg being able to do justice to the sub- 
ject. 

The night was anything but pleasant. It was the 
time of year when the days, in that latitude, are 
pleasant, but the nights nipping and uncomfortable. 
While I was en rapport with the swart brigands of 
the provost-guard, and before the irrepressible Afri- 
can had interrupted my understanding with my 
rebel friends, one of them had borrowed my coat 
wherewith to make himself a pillow. He had for- 
gotten to return it. And thus, in my shirt-sleeves, 
I shivered in the tireless room the weary hours of 
the interminable night. 

There was a dirty quilt in one corner. Upon this 
the African curled himself like a huge ball of ink, 
and snored like a wheezy locomotive. At intervals 
of half an hour or so, the windows of the room rat- 
tled, and the air was shattered by the heavy roar of 
the rebel gun — the same that we heard in approach- 
ing the city. 

I was hungry, frozen and discouraged. I could 
get nothing to eat. The only drink attainable was 
an atrocious compound of hell-fire and stench, known 
as peach brandy. I had tasted it, and it scorched 
along its passage like a rivulet of molten lead. 



108 Army and Other Sketches. 

When the negro had announced me as captain of 
the band, the guards seemed to think me a desperate 
character. The next man who was put on guard 
inside the door was a butternut, who had an im- 
mense sabre, with a steel scabbard, a home-made 
bowie-knife, a pair of revolvers, and a double-bar- 
reled shot-gun. He kept his eyes constantly upon 
me, and his finger on the trigger of his gun. 

A little before midnight the door opened, and 
there entered a man six feet four, mainly legs, 
bearded, sun-browned, with a torn, slouch hat, and 
fingers with long, dirty talons. He glared savagely 
at me for a moment, and then said: 

" Stranger, d'ye want a little draw poker?" 

I informed him in the blandest of tones that I 
would be delighted, but I was "strapped," and that 
I couldn't play if the bet was limited to a single 
shirt-button. He went away muttering. 

A little later the door opened, and there staggered 
in a heavy-set ruffian, in an advanced state of intox- 
ication. He carried in his right hand an immense 
horse-pistol, upon whose nipple I caught the red 
gleam of the cap. He lurched into the room and 
fixed, or tried to fix, his bloodshot eyes upon my 
figure. 

"Lemme guard these Yankee sonabishes," said 
he, "I want to shoot Yankee sonabish, by G — d." 

He stood swaying upon his feet, and trying to 
cover me with his pistol. The guard made no re- 
mark, but as the pistol was not cocked, I felt no im- 
mediate alarm. 

The room had been a barber's shop, and there re- 
mained a single chair, into which, after vainly try- 
ing to get a bead on me, he staggered. He almost 
instantly fell into a drunken slumber, during which 



A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 109 

he muttered in broken sentences, and gave utterance 
to half articulate oaths and blasphemies. 

He slept but a few moments, and then roused into 
wakefulness. He stared wildly at the wall, then his 
lowering, bloody eyes slowly wandered about the 
room till they fell on me. 

"Yankee son-of-a-bish — shoot you, by G — d." 

This time he fumbled with the hammer of his pis- 
tol, and succeeded in cocking it. Again he essayed 
to cover me with its muzzle, which looked larger to 
me than the opening of a barrel. But his nerveless 
hand could not obey the demands of the ruffianly 
soul, and again he gave up the attempt, and elapsed 
into a partial insensibility. 

A half-dozen times during the night did he awake, 
and menance me with his pistol. He was on the 
verge of delirium tremens. When asleep, his mut- 
terings, his imprecations, his savage blasphemies, 
were inexpressibly terrible. Toward morning some 
of his comrades entered, gave him a tin dipper full 
of brandy, and a moment later he fell into a stupor 
from which he did not recover till after daylight. 

There were no other interruptions of note during 
the night, save that occasionally some swart skeleton 
in butternut would open the door, gaze in curiously 
for a moment or two, and, after paying me the inev- 
itable compliment of calling me a " Yankee son of a 
— ," would go away. 

Daylight came after a month or six weeks, or some 
similarly approximate eternal period. Soon after 
reappeared Major Savery. With him came one of 
his lieutenants, Charles Martin. 

I related my experiences of the night. Savery was 
sympathetic. The African, having slept over it, 



110 Army and Other Sketches. 

took another look at me by daylight, and concluded 
I was not " Cap'en of de ban'." 

I cultivated Martin assiduously. I was rewarded 
at noon by being released on parole, and by being 
invited around by Martin, who was a native of the 
place, to dinner. 

He had a charming home, a beautiful and intelli- 
gent wife, and was himself the biggest desperado 
on the Missouri river. He was not over five feet two 
in height, and yet, as I have since learned, he killed 
before the war, a half-dozen men in broils and sin- 
gle-handed fights. 

He took a fancy to me, for some reason, and we 
were inseperable during my stay in the Confederate 
lines. He professed, and I believe entertained, a 
liking for me, and yet he tried, in a quiet way, to 
kill me, on two occasions. I occupied a bed at his 
house, and he slept in an adjoining room. The sec- 
ond night we came in late, and both retired. I had 
been in bed a half hour or so, when feeling feverish, 
I rose quietly and went to the wash-stand to bathe 
my face. The stand sat against the wall next to his 
room; and, in moving the pitcher, I made a slight 
noise. Instantly it flashed over me that he might 
think I was listening against the wall; and the next 
moment, in swift silence, I hurried back to the bed, 
noislessly entered, and drew up the clothes. I had 
but just done so, when the door of Martin's room 
opened without sound, and I saw him thrust out his 
head and his right arm, in the hand of which was a 
revolver. He turned quickly to the place where I 
had made a noise a moment before, but there was 
nobody there. He glanced at the bed. I was there, 
and snoring. 



A Bohemian Among the Rebels. Ill 

The next night we fell to discussing the battle of 
Wilson's Creek. He said the federal force was 
20,000. I said that it was less than 6,000. 

" Then I lie, do I?" he remarked in the quietest 
way imaginable. At the same moment he was stab- 
bing with the point of his sabre into the sill of a 
window; but, as he asked the question I saw him 
"gather himself." 

Had I said yes, the next stab with his sabre would 
have been directly into my breast. Despite his non- 
chalance and calmness there were a dozen murders 
in a glance which I caught of his eye, as he uncon- 
cernedly asked me the question. 

I am not writing now an account of the defence 
made by the gallant Mulligan. I have done this 
before, and the affair has become a matter of history. 
Suffice it that I remained till the Sunday after the 
surrender, which took place on Friday. In com- 
pany with Martin, during the progress of the fight, 
I visited the rebel lines, and for once was in front, 
in place of behind, federal bullets. 

I will only acid, in relation to my further experi- 
ence, that, during my stay, I received only the most 
courteous treatment, after the first night of my cap- 
ture. I was afforded every facility for writing up 
my accounts, and when I left, on Sunday, I was 
bidden a cordial good-bye by General Price, and 
was presented with a horse by my courteous little 
friend, Charley Martin. I recrossed to Utica, took 
the cars to St. Louis, and was the first to announce 
to the public the details of the siege of Lexington. 




PAP FULLER'S GAME OF POKER. 



'HEN the present President, U. S. Grant, of 
the United States was engaged in the task 
of trying to capture Vicksburg, there was 
j> a good deal of spare time for almost any 
thing. The particular time of which I speak 
was in February of 1863, when the Federal 
army, or armies, lay on the river above and 
opposite the Confederate city. 

General Grant did not, apparently, know what to 
do, and all the rest of the army was pretty much in 
the same nonplussed condition. Having nothing to 
do except to do nothing, every one resorted to some 
means to kill time. To capture the man with the 
hour-glass was as much a subject of planning and 
campaigning as the capture of the rebel city. 

Accordingly, there sprang into existence no end 
of pastimes. When the weather permitted, there 
was base ball, quoits, and horse racing. Occasion- 
ally somebody got drunk by way of variety. 

I think that a gentleman, Frank Blair, who ran 
for Vice President of the United States, last fall, 
could afford some statistics of high interest with 
reference to this class of pastimes. 

But out-door amusement was not to be depended 
on. When it did not rain, which it did nearly all 
the time, it was so muddy that land locomotion was 
largely of the wading style of progress, Therefore, 



Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 113 

everybody staid in his tent, or on the boats, and got 
rid of time after the most available process. 

A fine little amusement, and a favorite one, was 
one known as draw-poker — called, for short, among 
its more familiar friends, "draw." Everybody 
6i drawed " who had $5 of his own money, or who 
could negotiate a loan to that amount from an ac- 
commodating friend. But there were a few capital- 
ists who hung about the steamboats. They were 
chiefly cotton-buyers, who were excluded by Grant's 
rigid orders from going beyond the lines. They had 
money in plenty, and were always regarded as a 
valuable accession to a "little game of draw, just for 
amusement, you know." 

Other valuable adjucts to the same beautiful little 
game were the higher officers, who always seemed 
to have plenty of greenbacks ; quartermasters, whose 
resources, considering their small salaries, were 
amazing; paymasters, who were always plethoric; 
and some Kentuckians, who were down there watch- 
ing the progress of events, and passionately fond of 
whiskey, "draw," and moderately non-committal 
on the question of the negro. 

On the steamer Thomas E. Tutt, which lay four 
or five miles above Vicksburg, poker was the fash- 
ionable amusement. It was the supply-boat of Gen. 
Steele's command, and was often the headquarters 
of the general himself. One of his quartermasters 
was Captain, otherwise and familiarly known as 
"Pap" Fuller. "Pap" was from Illinois; and if 
the old gentleman loved anything in the world it 
was a " nice little game of draw, just to kill time." 
When I went to my state-room, at three A. M. , I left 
him indulging in draw. When I got up next morn- 
ing I found him in the same business, and trying to 



114 Army and Other Sketches. 

" raise " somebody " out" " before the draw," " on 
two little pair." 

The captain had accompanied Curtis in his march 
through Arkansas, and, it was said, he had played 
draw the entire trip. In any case, he reached 
Helena several thousands ahead; and this substantial 
capital was being increased before Yicksburg, until 
there occurred the incident I am about to relate. 

One day an arrival from Memphis discharged, 
among other things, a couple of travelers who 
announced themselves as cotton-dealers. They got 
on board the Tutt, and very soon, by their plausible 
manners, made the acquaintance of the regular 
habitues of that dilapidated old steamer. 

They had plenty of money, and knew nothing of 
any game of cards. The former was proved by 
their depositing, in the safe of the boat, some bulky 
packages of greenbacks; and the latter was estab- 
lished by their own assertions. Nevertheless, they 
took a decided interest in the game of " draw." 
They sat about the tables, looked into the players' 
hands, congratulated the winners, and sympathized 
with the losers. 

A man who can learn anything can learn poker, 
after having seen it played for a week or two. No- 
body was very much surprised, therefore, to discover, 
after a fortnight, that both of the new-comers had 
become participants in the game. 

Both were cautious awkward, and small players. 
A " five-cent" game was most to their liking, and 
anyone could "run them off" with a two-dollar bet. 
But they improved slowly, although they lost con- 
stantly. Gradually they progressed from a five-cent 
game up to the regular game of a dollar "blind." 



Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 115 

Both seemed to like to play at the same table with 
Pap Fuller. They lost their money with a good 
grace, and just the proper amount of chagrin over 
their bad luck and their lack of knowledge of so 
beautiful a game. 

Quite unexpectedly, one night, their luck began 
to change. They had astounding luck. They won, 
between them, something like $250. It was very 
singular, as Pap Fuller observed. He was the prin- 
cipal loser. 

" It's d— d singular," remarked that usually lucky 
veteran. " I never held such hands in my life ! 
Curse me if they didn't scoop me every time !" 

The next night it was the same, only more so. 
The two greenhorns were fearfully lucky. The 
game broke up at breakfast. Pap Fuller was some 
$300 out. 

I found the old gentleman, a couple of hours later, 
sitting dejectedly in his state-room. A tumbler of 
whisky cheered his solitude. 

" See here," said the captain, with a most lugubri- 
ous shake of the head, " I'm cussed if I see into this 
'ere little arrangement. Nobody ever beat old Pap 
Fuller in that style afore, especially two green uns 
never done it. The old man is playin' out, I 
reckon." And he concluded his oration with a pro- 
found sigh. 

All that day Pap was invisible, save to one or two. 
I called at his state-room once or twice. He occu- 
pied precisely the same position. He muttered to 
himself constantly. " Every time I had ' threes' 
one on 'em or the tother had a ' flush.' Ef I had two 
little pair, one or tother of 'em was sure to lay over 
me — especially one or tother on 'em had the deal ! 



116 Army and Other Sketches. 

Green are they ? Well, now, p'r'aps, and then again, 
p'r'aps not. Pap, you're a cussed old idiot." 

In this sort of way the captain delivered himself, 
talking sometimes to me and sometimes to himself. 

And so the day wore away. Night came, and 
with it, poker. Then, and not till then, did Pap 
emerge from his den. 

I looked curiously at the old man. He seemed 
somewhat subdued and humiliated. He took his 
seat at the table. The two strangers were already 
in place. 

The game began, and the captain lost. At mid- 
night he had lost $400. The two cotton-buyers were 
the " big" winners. 

"See here, boys," said Pap, "I'm losing a good 
deal of money. Let's change the ante and see if it 
will change the luck." 

"How much?" queried one of the cotton-buyers. 

"Well, let's make the < blind' $25." 

I was astounded. The cotton-buyers objected, but 
I detected a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of both, 
despite their objections. I feared they would yield 
— and they did. 

My first impression was that old Pap had become 
insane, or utterly reckless. Nevertheless, there was 
a tightening of his lips that indicated something. I 
placed myself behind him to watch his hand. I ex- 
pected something, I knew not what. 

His manner of discarding surprised me. Every 
time the deal was with one of the cotton buyers, Ful- 
ler would get a small pair. When the hands were 
" helped" there came to him " threes." Instead of 
keeping the pair, he began to discard it, keeping an 
ace and king whenever he had them. 



Pap Fuller'® Game of Poker, 117 

Several times he could have made a "full" had he 
kept his " pair." I began to think he was mad. He 
lost, but not much. Occasionally he would " call" 
a hand, but generally, with an anathema on his 
luck, he threw up his cards. I only saw that he was 
holding an ace and king when he could get them, 
and throwing away good pairs. 

By-and-by it happened that he got a pair of jacks, 
an ace, king, and another. He discarded the jacks, 
held the ace and king, and called for three cards. 
To my unbounded astonishment, when the hands 
were helped, he received three kings. 

He now held four kings, with an ace, the highest 
hand in the game! In a moment the whole policy 
of the wary old rat flashed over me. 

He led off by betting $10. The next man " went 
out." The next was one of the cotton dealers. He 
raised the captain $25. The next man was the other 
dealer, and he, after some pretended anxiety, "went 
$50 better." The next man passed out. To his left 
was Pap. 

The veteran's face seemed to express infinite dis- 
satisfaction over the heavy betting. He hesitated, 
and then " saw " the $50 " better." 

The first cotton man deliberated awile, and then 
raised the pile $100. No. 2 was astounded at such 
heavy betting, thought of laying down, but finally 
" went over " his friend. Again Pap called the man 
on his right. 

In this way the betting went on. Fuller always 
called the last man, and the other going a little 
higher each time. In a few minutes the amount on 
the table reached the respectable sum of $1,700. 

Up to this point the bets had been by fifties and 
hundreds. At this juncture the captain reached in- 



118 Army and Other Sketches. 

to his inside vest pocket, and pulled out an enormous 
roll of bills. 

"Gentlemen/' said he, "I'm going to make a 
spoon or spoil a horn. I raise that last $2,000;" so 
saying he laid four $500 bills on the piles. 

The cotton dealers seemed suddenly taken aback. 
They shot suspicious glances at the cast-iron visage 
of old Pap, but it was as void of expression as the 
face of an anvil. They studied, hesitated, and 
shifted about uneasily. Finally one of them went 
up to the safe of the boat and brought out their 
pile. It was just large enough for one of them to 
call. He " called " Fuller, and the other" went out." 

The cotton dealer had four tens. The captain ex- 
hibited his four kings and raked down the enor- 
mous pile of greenbacks. 

The cotton-dealers turned decidedly pale, and sat 
speechless and stupefied. Soon after, without a 
word, they withdrew to their state-rooms. 

"You see, my boy," said Pap, as he poured me 
out a little "commissary," "I made up my mind 
them fellows were sharp. Nobody ever beat me in 
a square ' game ' as they've beat me for the last 
week." 

" That is so." 

" So I studied the thing out. I wasn't going to 
squeal. You seen how I worked it. I just held on 
to an ace and king, knowing that bimeby the rest 
would come along. Bimeby they did come. Them 
cussed fools had put up the keards, and they thought 
I had a king ' full ' with jacks. But you see I didn't. 
Oh, no, I guess not." 

And the captain proceeded to arrange, and lay 
away, in an iron chest, his winnings, which amount- 
ed to something over $5,000. 






Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 119 

"I'mmore'n even with 'em, I reckon," said the 
veteran, with a satisfactory shake of his grizzly 
head. 

The next day, the two sharpers borrowed enough 
of old Pap to pay their fare to St. Louis. They left 
in the next boat, and were never again seen in the 
vicinity of the Tutt or Pap Fuller. 




RECOLLECTIONS OF GEN. FRED. 
STEELE. 

Blpr was in 1861 that I became acquainted with 
jP the gallant gentleman whose name heads 
these recollections. It was in July. At 
that time, Lyon, at the head of a small force, 
composed of three-months' volunteers — some 
"Missouri Dutchmen," as they were popularly 
termed — was crossing Missouri^ from Booneville to 
Springfield. 

One night, just before dark, Lyon's little command 
reached the Osage Crossing, where we met another 
force, consisting of some Kansas cavalry and a bat- 
talion of regular infantry, under command of Major 
Sturgis. To our eyes there was nothing ever half 
so warlike and redoubtable as this squadron of Kan- 
sas cavalry, as it was drawn up in line to receive us. 
With their carbines slung over their shoulders, and 
their long steel sabres, the men seemed, to our un- 
sophisticated vision to be invincible. A sentiment 
akin to pity percolated through my thoughts as I 
thought of the rebels who should be doomed to meet 
these heroes. 

That evening was occupied, after the camp had 
been established, in visiting the new-comers. Being 
a member of that gallant band known as "Bohe- 
mians," I had the privilege of going where and doing 
about as I pleased. Therefore, when the colonel, 



Recollections of Gen. Fred, Steele. 121 

who did me the honor to share with me his tent, 
mess, and bottle, went over to pay his respects to 
Major Sturgis, I was invited to grace the occasion. 

Never, perhaps, was there a more representative 
military crowd than was embodied in the majority 
of those gathered that evening in Major Sturgis' 
tent. There were the genial "Sam. Sturgis," — so 
termed by his familiars of the regular army, — Capt. 
Gordon Granger, Capt. Dan. Heuston, Capt. Totten, 
Capt. Fred. Steele, Lieuts. Sokalski, Sullivan, and 
others, — many of whom have since achieved a world- 
wide reputation; and of whom some, alas ! have 
passed forever beyond the domain of convivial 
gatherings. 

At that time, as every one knows, a regular army 
officer was something for the mass to look up to. I 
well remember the momentary daze which came 
over me as I was introduced to so many luminaries 
that had risen in the orient of West Point. It speaks 
volumes, likewise, for the suavity of these gentle- 
men, to state that, although ununif ormed and intro- 

dvced as plain Mr. , and without any allusion 

being made to my profession, not one of these men, 
during the evening, forgot or mispronounced my 
name, or ignored my presence, in the lively and 
prolonged conversation which ensued. Such an 
example of politeness, let me add, is not uncommon 
among the older army officers, although it is unfre- 
quent among no small number of their successors. 

I met, on that evening, two events — if I may so 
term them — which I had never met before, and 
which I am certain never to forget. One of these 
"events" — may his shade pardon me! — was Capt. 
Fred. Steele; and the other "event" was the 



122 Army and Other Sketches. 

elixir vitce, the nectar of the regular army, — whisky 
toddy. 

Introductions were no more than ended when 
Sturgis remarked: 

"Orderly, get out the materials. Gentlemen, I 
want you to taste some of Steele's toddy. He is the 
best toddy-maker in the world ! " 

The delicate, slender, light-featured Capt. Steele 
came modestly forward, and, almost blushing under 
the encomiums of his chief, went to work. How 
carefully and artistically he labored ! So much of 
the pure sugar, so much water, so much rye; a drop 
more or less, a grain too many or little, were ruin — 
were a catastrophe worse than a daub of house-paint 
in the face of Correggio's Magdalene. The ingre- 
dients mixed with a precision greater than that of a 
druggist who puts up a prescription wherein a sin- 
gle additional grain makes the whole a deadly 
poison, — then came the quaffing. The small, white 
hand of Steele passed around the tin cups, and then, 
with a gutteral "How!" each man inverted his 
measure just above his lower lip. 

Ye gods ! io triumphe ! — I shall never forget the 
delicious sensation which stole through my system, 
like slow- moving, electric flashes, as the concoction 
ran down my throat. The brew of Steele is abso- 
lutely indescribable. 

Accedant capiti cornua, Bacchus eris, 

But, in that tent on the Osage, one needed not to 
put on horns to become Bacchus; he, the rather, 
swallowed a "horn" of Steele's concoction, and 
straightway became a god. 

Such are my first recollections of Steele. He 
struck me then for his finished elegance of manner. 



Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 123 

As toddy succeeded toddy, voices grew louder, and 
bursts of laughter rang out wide through the forest. 
Steele alone did not become boisterous. His pale 
cheeks simply became delicately tinted, as if from a 
touch of rouge; his blue eyes lighted up, as if from 
inspiration; and his thin voice became stronger, but 
not louder, as the wassail grew fast and furious. 

Steele was never demonstrative. And so the cool- 
ness with which he faced the iron and leaden storm 
at Wilson's Creek was not recognized as a trait 
requiring universal panegyric or immediate promo- 
tion. 

The next time I saw him was at Helena, in No- 
vember of 1862. He was in command of the post. 
Wishing facilities for getting about, I called at his 
headquarters. I wrote my request on a card, and 
sent it in by an orderly. He returned almost instantly 
with a request to come in. A shaking of hands, 
and then an adjournment to a small room adjoining, 
in which was a sideboard, and on which was a row 
of gleaming decanters. Close by was sugar; and 
soon there came water! Steele, although then a 
major-general, had not forgotten his cunning. He 
mixed as dextrously as when a captain; and I could 
not taste the slightest depreciation in the character of 
his production. 

It was but a little later that Sherman's force 
decencled the Mississippi river and debarked on the 
Yazoo bottom. I accompanied General Steele on 
the steamer " Continental " We overtook Christ- 
mas, or Christmas overtook us, on our way down. 
The grand old anniversary was celebrated in due 
form. I retired soon after dark to escape what I knew 
would prove an all-night symposium. For hours, 
sleep was chased away by a jollity that found vent 



124 Army and Other Sketches. 

in song, anecdote, and laughter. The next morning 
saw a humbled crowd among those who, toward 
noon, crept painfully from their berths. Steele 
alone was an exception. Up betimes in the morn- 
ing, his eye was as clear, his voice as free from 
huskiness, and his hand as firm as though the pre- 
ceding night had been one of profound repose. 

And here, as I approached the battle of Chickasaw 
Bayou, let me diverge to state something which I do 
not think was ever before published. On the night 
that we reached Johnson's Landing, on the Yazoo, a 
party of us gathered in the " texas " of a steamer, to 
while away the evening with a game of cards. One 
of the players was Colonel John B. Wyman, whose 
name will meet with universal recognition. Who 
the other players were, does not matter. 

All that evening Wyman was abstracted and un- 
easy. When playing, he played badly and care 
lessly, as if his mind were on some other subject. 
Between the deals he would rise and pace the nar- 
row room, with bowed head and preoccupied air. 

"What is it, colonel?" I asked. 

" I don't know, myself. I think I shall fight to- 
morrow. My boys have never had a brush yet. I 
want them to do well." 

"They will, of course ! " 

"Oh, yes, I'll bet they will! But, Christ! how 
uneasy I am. I wish I could hear from home. My 

wife " and here his voice sank into a mutter 

which was indistinguishable. 

And so till midnight. As we were about to part 
for the night, I said: 

" Colonel, if you take your boys on the bluff to- 
morrow, it will give you a star." 



Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 125 

"Yes, I know; but something will happen, I am 

sure." 

And then, with a preoccupied air, he added, as if 
to himself, " If I could only hear from home — from 
my wife " 

And I heard no more. The next morning, in a 
preliminary movement, he was shot through the 
lungs. In less than twenty-four hours after we 
parted, I saw him again — this time a corpse. 

Just before dark Steele moved his command, on 
the extreme federal left, into position, in front of 
the rebel lines. We pushed out along a high levee, 
and then the command deployed off to the left and 
lay down. It was as dark as Erebus, and cold as 
the lowermost of Dante's hells. An assault had been 
ordered at daylight next morning. As we were 
under the rebel guns, no fires could be lighted. 

Just before daybreak, Steele's orderly built a little 
fire behind the gnarled roots of an immense cedar, 
and proceeded to boil some coffee. Around the tiny 
blaze were gathered General Steele; Hovey, of the 
Illinois Normal School; Thayer, of Nebraska; and 
myself. 

A day or two before I had picked up a copy of 
Andrew's Ovid, near some deserted house. As we 
gathered about the fire, Steele noticed the end of the 
book protruding from my haversack. He pulled it 
out and opened it. Turning by chance to the ac- 
count of the nuptials of Perseus and Andromeda, he 
read aloud, giving a line in Latin, and then render- 
ing it in English. At length he came to the passage: 

" pennisque fugacem 
Pegason et fratrem, matris de sanguine." 

Here he seemed to have some doubt as to the pre- 
cise meaning of a word. Then occurred a discussion 



126 Army and Other Sketches. 

which was classical and profound, and might have 
continued indefinitely had not Hovey given an opin- 
ion, which, owing to his Normal School precedents, 
was acquiesced in as being beyond appeal. 

I relate this little incident simply to show Steele's 
complete indifference to danger. Not half a mile 
away lay a line of rebel rifle pits which were to be 
stormed. Just beyond them rose heights bristling 
with heavy guns, every one of which commanded 
our camp. An attack was expected to be made 
within a few minutes, and which everybody knew 
must be a failure. And yet, at this precise moment, 
Steele was as cool and unruffled as if the next move 
were to be to breakfast instead of battle. When the 
moment came for attack, Steele moved forward 
along a road swept by rebel guns as coolly as if he 
were leading his company at dress parade. 

I might relate any number of instances of Steele's 
behavior in battle, every one of which would prove 
him a man who, if not absolutely insensible to fear, 
never allowed the shadow of apprehension to dwell 
upon his face. Once, on the march from Jackson, to 
Vicksburg, I saw him enter a store alone which was 
filled with a maddened crowd of Federal soldiers, 
who were drunk to desperation, and who presented 
their loaded muskets at the breasts of their own 
officers. With only a small revolver in his hand, he 
dashed into the centre of the howling mass, and in 
three minutes he had driven every ruffian into the 
street. There was a murderous glare in his eye, 
and a compression of his lips, which carried a mean- 
ing that no one of the plundering horde could mis- 
understand. 

Of his charges on the 19th of May, at Vicksburg, 
and his subsequent military career, I need not speak. 



Eecollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 127 

In every instance he showed himself impervious to 
danger. 

As a commander, Steele was better calculated to 
lead a corps under somebody else, than he was to 
have charge of an independent department. He 
preferred to execute rather than to plan. It left 
him a leisure on his hands which he could devote 
to social intercourse and intellectual cultivation. 

I believe he was not married at the time of his 
death. He was always an ardent admirer of wo- 
men, but mainly in the old, chivalrous way. Full 
of anecdote and reminiscence, he yet never made 
the frailities of woman the theme of such relation. 
In all his acts he treated the sex with a courtly, re- 
spectful tenderness. 

His hospitality was unbounded, providing his 
guests possessed geniality. His mess was always a 
crowded one, most of whom were invited partici- 
pants. Any man who was cultivated was always 
sure of finding himself welcome. 

The intelligence of his death will cause a wide 
and profound sorrow. Those who know him well 
entertain a respect for his memory second to that 
felt for no illustrious man whom the country has 
lost since the beginning of the rebellion. 

I will close these recollections with a sketch which 
I once made of the appearance of Gen. Steele, at a 
time, in 1863, when I was in daily intercourse with 
him. 

* * * Like a Geneva watch, he presents but 
little surface. His merits, the fine machinery and 
exquisite balance, are all within. A small and well- 
knit man of 38 ; with a hand delicate and white as 
a lady's ; light complexion, only preserved from 
effeminacy by a flowing beard ; eyes of light .blue, 



128 Army and Other Sketches. 

and a full, compact forehead ; dress neat, elegant, 
with a touch of velvet about the cuff and collar ; 
always free from dust, and as clean as if stepping 
out for a dress-parade at his alma mater — West 
Point — such are the outer peculiarities of General 
Steele. Without ever being over-dressed, he is, I 
think, the best dressed and best mounted man in the 
army. His prevailing trait is quietness,— a gentle- 
manly sort of repose, — which he carries with him 
undisturbed, whether doing the honors of the table 
to his friends, or directing the movements of a storm- 
ing party, amidst the roar of fiercest battle. Few 
soldiers among volunteers love, but all respect him. 
As a strict, unyielding disciplinarian, he frequently 
excites their dislike; but his unruffled calmness 
when surrounded by the surging waves of battle; 
his pre-eminent skill in guiding their movements; 
and the lightning-like rapidity with which he adapts 
himself to the new combinations created in a con- 
flict — compel their admiration, and have won their 
highest respect. 

He chats with you unconcernedly up to the very 
moment he enters a battle; and, the instant it is 
over, resumes his sociability, and discourses upon 
general subjects as if the affair through which he 
had passed were of as little account as washing his 
hands for dinner. 




SOME PEOPLE I HAVE MET. 



£& 



H^ N the latter part of 1862, for several months, 
f I was in Washington. At that time almost 
everybody of note was at the front; but now 
and then the capital was enlivened by the 
M presence of some one who was worth taking a 
^ second look at. 

I was standing one day in front of the Metropoli- 
tan, in company with a son of Dr. Tom Edwards. 

'• Do you see that little cuss coming along yon- 
der?" inquired my companion, as he pointed up the 
avenue. 

Following the line of his index finger, there ap- 
peared what I, at first, took to be a boy. It was an 
individual scarcely more than four feet nine, and 
slender in proportion. He approached us at a tear- 
ing gait for such an infant. His slender legs were 
alternately planting a delicate patent leather boot 
on the sidewalk in what was the double-quick of 
going on a walk. A little cane kept time, like a pen- 
dulum made of astraw, to the swift movement of his 
extremities. A little eye-glass bestrode a rather 
large nose; a low-crowned hat was on a small head. 

All this I took in as he approached us. The next 
moment he shot by us like an infant hurricane. 
I had but just time to notice that he had the Fed- 
eral eagles on his shoulders, that he was, although 



130 Army and Other Sketches. 

whiskerless, wrinkled up to about forty-five, and 
that he marched with the upper portion of his body 
bent forward, while his eyes were fixed immovably 
upon the ground, at the regulation distance of fif- 
teen paces to the front, as if he were deeply preoc- 
cupied: 

" Can't say I do know him. I should say he is a 
very old young man, or a very young old man. 
Who is he, any how?" 

"That's Prince Salm Salm." 

"Oh!" 

"Yes. A fighter, too, he is ! I saw him at Bull 
Eun. I was running away one way on foot, when I 
met him running away the other way on a horse. I 
just ketched his bridle, and says I, ' Look here, cap- 
ten, we want that horse for the artillery!' He 
jumped off without a word and struck out on exactly 
the same gait that I had just been falling back on. 
I slid into his saddle and kept on falling back till I 
got to Washington." 

The next time I saw the noble infant, he was 
gorgeous in Federal uniform. On his right arm, and 
towering a full head above him, was a royal dame, 
who, although not really tall, rose to a Juno-like 
stature, when contrasted with her slender protector. 
Her eyes were large, liquid, and filled with a sort of 
oriental languor. They were a blue-black, and 
seemed to express infinite tranquillity and self-pos- 
session. Her hair was very heavy, of a very dark 
brown, and was carried back in bands after a style 
which I can not describe, but which gave force to 
the character of her head without detracting from 
the womanly softness of her face. Her lips were 
full, her mouth handsomely cut, her complexion a 
mixture, as if it were the results of combining the 



Some People I Have Met. 131 

more delicate light and shadow of the blonde and 
brunette with the least possible predominance of 
the latter. Her dress was very rich, and yet in 
no respect gaudy. Her movement was erect and 
elastic, her bearing a compromise between haughti- 
ness and gentleness, with a perceptible dash of 
both. 

In age, she was about twenty-four; and in appear- 
ance, she was a woman whom a man would first 
glance at wonderingly, and then turn to look at 
admiringly. Such was the Princess Salm Salm, as 
I then, and frequently after, saw her, arm in arm, 
on Pennsylvania Avenue, with her diminutive hus- 
band. 

One night, Washington was ablaze with excite- 
ment. General Corcoran had returned from a South- 
ern prison, and there was to be a reception, a sere- 
nade, and speeches, at Willard's. At the appointed 
time, I sauntered down to the hotel, in front of a 
balcony, from whence the speaking was expected. 
I placed my back against a vacant tree, and, thus 
luxuriously situated, I awaited the coming of events. 
I had barely arranged myself when I was staggered 
by a tremendous blow on my shoulder. My first 
idea was that I had been struck by a falling chim- 
ney, and then, upon looking around, I saw a quasi 
acquaintance, an office-seeking Goliath, named Cap- 
tain Payson, withdrawing a hand, the shape and 
size of a ham, from my shoulder. 

It was a way Payson had of attracting one's atten- 
tion. He was a man who would awaken a sleeping 
child by firing a 200-pound cannon near its ear, or 
knock a man's brain s out in attempting to brush a 
fly from his forehead. 



132 Army and Other Sketches. 

" I want to introduce a friend," said he. I glanced 
up. By his side stood a gentleman of about forty- 
five years of age, tall, elegantly formed, with light 
hair, a complexion evidently once fresh, but now 
approaching somewhat the color of sole-leather, and 
seamed with a thousand infinitesimal wrinkles, as 
if they had been ploughed with the point of a cam- 
bric needle. His eyes were a mild gray, his features, 
regular and mobile, and his bearing erect and digni- 
fied. 

' ' Gentlemen, know each other, Mr. Blank, Colonel 
Charles Edward Lester," and Payson drew out this 
name till it seemed as long as an average clothes- 
line. 

" Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold," said the 
stranger in a sonorous, musical voice, and with an 
unmoved countenance; " all the titles of good fel- 
lowship come to you ! What, shall we be merry? 
Shall we have a drink extempore?" 

Piloted equally by the captain and the colonel, I 
crossed the street, and threaded a devious route to 
some secluded retreat, where prohibitory liquor law 
was supposed to have no jurisdiction. We " smiled" 
and "smiled again," and then commenced my ac- 
quaintance with the author of the " Glory and 
Shame of England," and who proved one of the most 
remarkable, in many respects, men whom I have 
ever known. 

We returned to the sidewalk in front of Willard's. 
Just then, Colonel Mulligan came forward on the 
balcony and began to speak. 

Lester listened a few moments, and then remarked: 

"By heavens! There's more electricity in that 
man's oratory than in that of any other man I have 
ever listened to." 



Some People I Have Met. 133 

A little later, I had the pleasure of making these 
two men acquainted. Mulligan was a warm ad- 
mirer of Lester's principal work. They fraternized 
at once ; and one of the most brilliant interchanges 
of thought I ever listened to followed, but which 
Came to an abrupt termination, in about five min- 
utes, by the sudden recollection of the author that it 
had been as much as ten minutes since he had taken 
a drink. 

Mulligan would not go ; Lester would. And so 
they parted — mutually pleased, and mutually disap- 
pointed. 

Lester was, or is, the finest conversationalist 
whom I have ever heard, and, if he will pardon the 
additional compliment, the most incorrigible bummer. 
For three months, I impoverished myself in paying 
for his whisky, simply to hear him talk. He was 
equally firm on two points ; one of these was, to 
never refuse an invitation to a drink, and the other 
was never to pay for one. 

The latter reason was founded upon adequate pe- 
cuniary premises. 

No subject was foreign to his abilities. Once Con- 
sul at Genoa, and an extensive traveler, he appeared 
to know all men and all places. He seemed as fa- 
miliar with authors as ordinary men are with the 
alphabet. 

It was a custom of mine, on Sunday morning, if 
the day promised to be fair, to purchase a quart of 
whisky, hire a carriage, find the colonel, and drive 
somewhere in the charming vicinity of Kalorama. 
Some green and shady spot would be selected, the 
hack turned loose, the bottle conveniently arranged, 
so as to lie equally within "striking distance" of 



134 Army and Other Sketches. 

both, and then would begin an entertainment which 
I shall never forget. 

My part was little more than to listen, to some- 
times suggest a topic, to oftener repress emotions 
which sprang into active life under his influence. 

His style varied with the subject of his conversa- 
tion. Now, he was calm, equable, dignified; again, 
his words rushed forth, a torrent of fiery enthusi- 
asm; or he spoke in a low voice, broken with sobs, 
while his face was bathed with tears. 

Where or how he lived in Washington, I never 
knew or inquired. He was to be found at certain 
hours about Williard's, awaiting an invitation to 
drink. He spoke often of his family with pride, 
and never of his wife save with a profound respect. 
He rarely mentioned the latter unless it was to 
couple her with some apropos poetical quotation, in 
which the tender utterances of Milton's Adam to 
Eve always bore a prominent part. 

One day I suddenly left Washington. The last I 
saw of my friend, the author, the diplomat, the poet, 
philosopher, statesman, gentleman, and (then) bum- 
mer, he was sitting in the reading-room at Willard's, 
with an expression on his face of intellectual grand- 
eur, of dignity, of benevolence, and of — unquench- 
able thirst. 





SOME REMEMBERED FACES. 



OOKING backward, through an experience 
SH L53 E °^ a <l uar t er °f a century or more, I discover 
*^i> here and there faces which, framed in di- 
verse events, stand out with the distinctness 
of fresh and well-executed pictures. 

I suppose that my experience, in this respect, 
is not singular; and that others, as well as my- 
self, can, with a retrospective glance, discover these 
marked faces, which, in some instances, are 
wholly dissociated from time or events. 

One sees them as he might a portrait suspended 
in air, or in a vacuum, and entirely bereft of sur- 
roundings. 

At other times, these faces are inseparably inter- 
woven or framed with incidents. Now, it is the 
smoke of a battle; again, it appears in the green of 
a prairie; in the white surroundings of a tent; in an 
illuminated border of angry countenances and flash- 
ing eyes. Sometimes, as I have said, the face alone 
remains; and I know neither, when, where, nor un- 
der what circumstances I saw it. 

Let me try to present copies of two or three of 
these portraits. I can not answer for the fidelity of 
these presentations. To embody and reproduce what 
is but an attenuated memory is a work which is per- 
plexing, unsubstantial, and, in its results, unsatis- 
factory. 



136 Army and Other Sketches. 

Once, during the war, I was in the wheel-house of 
an iron-clad gun-boat, on the Cumberland river, 
About six hundred yards in front of us was a Con- 
federate battery. Looking through the small orifice 
in the cuirassed wheel-house, I could see only a 
dense white smoke which lay in banks about the 
square prow of our vessel. At short intervals I could 
see a broad flash of red flame rive its way through 
this white surrounding like a vast sheet of lightning 
shattering some mass of clouds. 

A rumbling and massive roar accompanied these 
flashes, and the clumsy iron boat shuddered under 
the recoil of the guns. 

Incessantly from out the mass of vapor that en- 
veloped us there came fierce hissings which passed 
and left upon the air a vibration like an echo. At 
times, this hiss would suddenly terminate, and the 
depths of the drifting masses, about us, for a brief 
instant, would become suddenly roseate, as if illu- 
minated by a flash of red fire. 

My companion, the pilot, seemed little moved by 
these surroundings. He listened to the signals from 
below, and labored to hold the boat immovable 
against the current. He was a tall man, with an 
ordinary, pleasant face, upon which there rested 
only an expression of sober earnestness. 

Suddenly there was a savage hiss from out the 
smoke, then the turret in which we stood seemed 
shattered as by the fall upon it of a thousand tons of 
rock. There was an explosion that rent my ear 
with deafening violence, and I was dashed violently 
backward. At the same moment, a jet of some 
warm fluid struck me across the face. 

Involuntarily, I turned to my companion, and then 



Some Remembered Faces. 137 

I saw framed one of those faces which I have never 
forgotten. 

His hands still grasped the wheel, and he stood 
bare-headed and erect. His lips were just parted, as 
if he was about to speak; his heavy hair seemed 
dashed away from his brow, and his gray eyes looked 
straight into mine, with a sad, wondering expres- 
sion. There was in his glance something infinitely 
solemn, and yet expectant — a mingling of what 
seemed surprise and appeal. 

For three or four seconds I looked at this face, 
over which there was moving something that was 
like the shadow of rigidity. His lips parted more 
and more, his jaw began to settle slowly down, and 
then he sank like a mass of gelatine to the floor. 

A splinter had torn open his breast, and he was 
dead before his hands were unclasped from the 
wheel. 

The hair thrown back, the pleading and wonder- 
ing interrogation of his glance, the awful shadow of 
fixedness that stole across his face, and the slow 
dropping of his jaw, form one of the portraits which 
I see and contemplate even yet with a chill of hor- 
ror, as I review these memorable faces of the past. 

Shortly after the battle of Shiloh, in wandering 
from point to point within the federal lines, I found 
myself belated, at dark, at the little town of Monte- 
rey, a few miles west of Corinth. In questioning a 
surgeon as to the location of a point I wished to find, 
there resulted a quasi-acquaintance, which ended in 
my being cordially invited to spend the night at his 
quarters. We remained in a sort of field-dispensary 
until long after taps, and then I was shown a place 
to sleep, in a tent a short distance away. 



138 Army and Other Sketches. 1 

The night was calm, and the regiments were bur- 
ied in profound repose. Not a sound broke the still- 
ness as I wrapped myself in a blanket and composed 
myself to slumber. I was lingering in that delight- 
ful region which divides the domain of wakefulness 
from that of sleep, when there came through the 
still air a voice which said: " Oh, Lord !" It was 
apparently a thin, childish tone, weakened as if by 
suffering, and yet penetrating in its clearness. 

At intervals of ten minutes, perhaps, the same 
voice rang out the same " Oh, Lord ! " upon the still- 
ness. Sleep seemed to follow it away through the 
darkness. Hour after hour passed, and still I lay 
awake, listening to this monotonous cry. It did not 
seem one of terror. It appeared rather one inspired 
by loneliness, by suffering, and by the absence of 
hope. It was suggestive of the tired moan of a 
weary child, which wishes for, yet suffers, and is 
too exhausted to rest. 

There was a tone in it as if pleading for relief, and 
which, so thin, so weak, so boyish, it suggested only 
the relief to be found on the bosom of a mother. 
And thus, pleading, calling, with a hint of queru- 
lousness, the plaint was heard until the darkness 
began to dissolve into the misty gray of dawn. 

Fainter came the voice as the hours moved on, 
until, at daybreak, it had passed into an incoherent 
utterance, and then ceased altogether. 

Soon after, I arose, passed out, and found myself 
just opposite a large hospital tent, which lay in the 
direction of the voice which had timed so sadly the 
weary hours of the night. 

Crossing over, I pushed aside the flap, and entered. 
Rows of cots were upon either side, some occupied 



Some 'Remembered Faces. 139 

and some empty. In response to my inquiry, a sol- 
dier directed me to a cot on the further side. 

"He's gone," said my sententious informant. 

And here, upon this cot, I found another of those 
faces which I see yet with the same distinctness 
that I saw it then. 

A slender form was outlined from beneath the 
blanket. The shoulders and head were only visible. 
It was not a poetical face. The hair was unkempt, 
the forehead low, and the contour of the head not 
striking. But the face was small, wasted, and boy- 
ish. The lids were half unclosed, and revealed blue 
eyes that were fixed and staring. The cheeks were 
small and childish, the mouth delicate, while over 
the forehead, cheeks, and chin had fastened itself 
that awful rigidity which so completely effaces the 
elastic expressions of life. 

The characteristic of the face that most interested 
me, was its youthfulness. It was so little, so weak. 
It seemed to belong to one who should have been 
pillowed in a cradle, rather than to have been 
sent out into the great world to grapple alone with 
death. 

Whose child it was that thus met death face to face, 
and, unassisted, and unsupported, carried on the ter- 
rible struggle, and was vanquished, I never knew. I 
have only a knowledge of a pale, thin young face, 
that lay with its blue eyes staring unmeaningly into 
vacancy. 

Other faces present themselves to this retrospect. 
There is an ineffably sad face, womanly, pale, with 
dark eyes that look without seeing, masses of heavy 
black hair carefully arranged, compressed lips, with 
a settled expression of despair, which I have seen, 
but when and where I know not. It is not the face 



140 Army and Other Sketches* 

of a picture, but of a woman whom I have some- 
where met, whose sorrow has always commanded 
my profound- sympathy, and whose rare, sad beauty 
yet preserves for itself a warm admiration. 

There are other faces, fixed and intensified as they 
are when in the presence of mortal peril. Here is 
one of a blue-eyed baby, and there another of a lout- 
ish boy, or some laughing girl, or the corrugated 
front of some paralytic octogenarian. 

He who recalls these portraits, who studies their 
traits, will be surprised to find how much more last- 
ing are sorrowful than sunny faces. He will find 
that there are a dozen faces in his mental gallery 
that scowl, are suffering, are flushed with painful 
emotions, are staring in death, that sadden, where 
there is one that smiles, and to recall which, and 
examine, is a task of pleasure. 








A REMINISCENCE OF THE WAR. 




HE incident I am about to relate is one 
which, during the sublime convulsions of a 
great war, would escape notice. It is a lit- 
tle occurrence; and yet it contains volumes of 
meaning with reference to one of the most gal- 
lant men who, during the late war, drew his 
sword in the cause of the government. 
It was in the month of April, 1863, that I was con- 
nected with a metropolitan newspaper as its west- 
ern correspondent. At the precise time of which I 
am about to write, Grant had run the Vicksburg 
batteries, and had crossed a portion of his army just 
below Grand Gulf. The advance, under Osterhaus, 
had repulsed the confederates in front of Port Gib- 
son, and had reached Black river on its northward 
march. Here Osterhaus had been joined by Gen- 
eral Grant; and a halt of two or three days was de- 
termined upon, in order to allow a concentration of 
the Federal forces, who reached all the way from 
Richmond, nearly opposite Vicksburg, around by 
Perkins' plantation, Grand Gulf, Bruinsburg and 
Porfc Gibson, to Grant's headquarters at Black river. 
When these forces were concentrated, it was in- 
tended to resume the march around Vicksburg via 
Jackson, the capital of Mississippi. 



142 Army and Other Sketches. 

I accompanied the advance, and reached Black 
river at the same time as did the commander-in- 
chief. Upon arrival there, I found myself wofully 
in need of a change of clothing. My baggage was 
all upon the boat at the Federal landing opposite 
Yicksburg. When the expedition had started to 
move below Yicksburg, there was a universal disbe- 
lief in its success. I shared this opinion ; and, antici- 
pating a defeat, and possibly the necessity of a hasty 
retreat, I had moved in light marching order ; that 
is, I limited myself to the single suit of clothes which 
I wore, and the necessary paraphernalia of a Bo- 
hemian. The march to Black river occupied some 
time ; the route was dirty ; it had rained frequently; 
and, there being but few tents with the advance, 
— the baggage being left at the river, — I found my- 
self looking more like a chimney-sweep than a re- 
spectable journalist. Having learned that the army 
would remain certainly as many as three days at 
its position on Black river, I determined to return 
to the landing opposite Vicksburg, and rehabilitate 
myself in a shape conducive, at least, to cleanliness. 

These particulars are unimportant, save as they 
may serve to recall the Federal movements, likewise 
as they may indirectly bear upon the position in 
which I soon after found myself. 

To reach the Vicksburg landing, I had a ride of 
forty miles to Grand Gulf ; then a trip by steamer 
to the other side of the Mississippi, at Perkins' plan- 
tation; and then r a ride of thirty miles more to the 
landing. I calculated thas the trip would occupy a 
day and a half each way ; and I should, therefore, 
be able to return to headquarters on Black river 
within three days, or before the Federal army re-, 
commenced its advance. 



A Reminiscence of the War. 143 

The weather had been rainy ; after which there 
followed a close, oppressive heat. I made the forty 
miles a little after noon of the morning of my de- 
parture ; caught the tug at Grand Gulf ; and leav- 
ing the landing at the other side long before day- 
light the next clay, I reached the Federal boats op- 
posite Vicksburg about ten o'clock in the morning. 
I made the necessary changes ; and, mounted upon 
a fresh horse, which was supplied me by a friendly 
quartermaster, I commenced my return soon after 
noon. The roads were in excellent order, my beast 
a superior animal, and I had no fears as to my 
ability to regain Perkins' plantation in time to catch 
the down-boat in the evening. 

As I have said, the weather was oppressively 
warm. There was not a breath of air stirring, and 
everything seemed weighed down by the heat, as if 
it were possessed of enormous gravity. My ride of 
the day before and of the morning of my return, 
was, considering the heat, of extraordinary length. 
I was somewhat fatigued when I started back ; and 
this feeling soon after was succeeded by one of a 
serious and most unpleasant nature. I found that, 
upon the slightest turning of my head from one side 
to the other, I would lose the power to balance my- 
self, and could only prevent myself from falling 
from my horse by instinctively grasping the pom- 
mel of the saddle. 

I had passed through Richmond when these symp- 
toms attacked me, and I was too far on my journey 
to think of returning to the Vicksburg landing. An 
oppressive premonition seized me, and I feared that, 
in a little while, I would become totally blind and 
helpless, 



144 Army and Other Sketches. 

The route over which I moved was that which 
had been taken by the Federal forces; but it was en- 
tirely deserted. The rear of our army had passed; 
and the few houses which presented themselves at 
long intervals were as silent as graves. The cotton- 
gins were heaps of smouldering ruins; and the negro 
cabins and the plantation houses stood with opened 
doors and shattered windows. There was nowhere 
a sign of life, save here and there a broken-down 
mule, and an alligator sunning itself upon some log 
in the bayous. The paunches and horned-skulls of 
beeves, the skins and entrails of swine, broken 
cracker-boxes, dead camp-fires, innumerable foot- 
paths, and deep ruts cut by the loaded wagons, 
marked the route of the passing army. But all life 
had disappeared with it. There was not even the 
defiant bark of the usually omnipresent dogs of the 
negroes. No cattle lowed from the ricks; no horses 
or mules cropped the springing grass. Everywhere 
were only desolation, solitude, destruction. Dead 
mules, bloated enormously, and with legs thrust out 
rigidly outward, appeared at intervals. Intolerable 
stenches from decaying animal matter poisoned the 
air, and loaded each breath with a deadly nausea. 
There was nothing beautiful, save the clear sun- 
light, and the long hedges decorated with an infinite 
variety of gorgeous flowers. 

As may easily be understood, the absence of all 
life, the constant presence of death, the decay, the 
ruin and desolation, the sickening odors, all con- 
sipired to add strength to the illness which possessed 
me. The death about me constantly suggested 
death ; and the odors of rottenness the decay which 
seemed destined to make me its prey. I grew worse 
each instant. The air seemed to come from a blast 



A Reminiscence of the War. 145 

furnace, — a combination of parching heat and nause- 
ating stench. My tendency to fall from my horse 
became each moment greater, and my eyes were 
filled with millions of black, elongated specks, which 
impeded my vision, and which, increasing constantly 
in size, promised soon to become an unbroken veil 
of darkness. I felt that I was rapidly becoming 
blind; and my mind, fast losing coherence, reasoned 
scarcely at all, but instead, became the abode of 
numberless dire apprehensions. I had, however, 
sense enough to know that my safety, if existing 
anywhere, lay in advance. I therefore clung ten- 
aciously to the mane of my horse, and spurred des- 
perately forward. Racking pains run along my 
spine, an immense weight seemed to lie upon my 
brain. 

It was some hours after I left Richmond; and the 
bayou, whose course I was following, and its levees, 
seemed interminable. I was fast verging upon a 
state of complete unconsciousness, when I saw dimly 
a house, at whose front was a score of horses. A 
few orderlies in blue moved among them, and some 
cavalrymen were warming coffee over a fire kindled 
among the shrubbery. On the long piazza, which 
ran around the house, was seated a group of Federal 
officers. My horse, of its own accord, turned in 
through a gap in the hedge, and, coming up to the 
portico, stopped. My head swam for an instant, as 
if whirled by machinery, and then I fell forward 
insensible. 

My next recollection is, that I was seated on my 
horse and moving forward. Upon each side of me 
rode an orderly, by whom I was sustained in my 
saddle. From behind came the clanking of sabres, 
as if from an escort. In front of me rode three or 



146 Army and Other Sketches. 

four officers, one of whom I recognized, by his star, 
to be a general. I noticed that he was slightly built, 
with light hair, and a smooth, boyish face. I had 
an opportunity to observe these particulars, for the 
reason that, at short intervals, he turned towards me 
with a compassionate air, as if to satisfy himself of 
my condition. Once or twice he addressed me; but 
I was so dizzy, confused and pained that I evidently 
could not answer him satisfactorily. 

For what seemed an age, this slow journey con- 
tinued. After a while we crossed the bayou to our 
left, and, after a long time spent in floundering 
through some low grounds across which the road 
led, we came into a clearing, and just before us ran 
the broad, sluggish Mississippi. I had a dim con- 
sciousness, from the charred ruins of what had once 
been a house, and from other features, that we were 
at Perkins' plantation. 

Some blankets were spread under a tree, and I was 
assisted from my horse and laid upon them. The 
officer with the star on his shoulder seated himself 
in a camp chair close by me, and found time, when 
not giving directions about encamping, to inquire as 
to my condition, my name and destination. The 
first of these required no answer. As to the others, 
I could tell nothing, except to give utterance to 
incoherent utterings. My thoughts possessed some 
little clearness, but my tongue refused to interpret 
them. 

Soon after, a small, white tent was raised near me. 
I was offered some coffee; but the mere oder nause- 
ated me, and it was taken away; and then I was 
supported into the tent. In one end was a cot, upon 
which were blankets, and clean, white sheets. I was 
assisted to undress, and placed in the bed; and, in a 



A Reminiscence of the War, 147 

little while, between slumber and illness, I sank into 
unconsciousness. 

The quiet, the rest, with perhaps the fact that my 
attack had culminated and spent its force, restored 
me. I awoke at dawn without a particle of the feel- 
ing which possessed me the day before. It required 
some time to recall my wandering thoughts so as to 
take in the seemingly interminable events of the pre- 
vious day, and to explain the unwonted comforts of 
my position and surroundings. Slowly I gathered 
up the raveled, broken, knotted threads of remem- 
brance; and then, hastily dressings I went into the 
open air. 

There was just sufficient light to render objects 
indistinctly visible. All over the clearing were camp- 
fires, some of which yet flickered feebly, while others 
were smouldering beds of white ashes. All around 
these fires lay soldiers in their blankets, and near 
them were long lines of stacked muskets. Close by 
the tent was a score or more of horses, some lying 
down, and some standing with drooping heads, as 
if asleep. Near them lay saddles and blankets, and 
among them, here and there, were sabres whose 
steel scabbards reflected a gleam from some adja- 
cent camp-fire. Directly in front of the tent, and 
beneath a group of trees, slumbered four or five 
men, whose uniforms, revealed from beneath their 
blankets, showed them to be officers. With his 
head pillowed upon his saddle, I recognized the ten- 
der, compassionate, boyish face of my conductor of 
the day before. His countenance lay upturned, and, 
while its predominant expression was that of se- 
renity, there yet seemed to rest upon it a shadow, as 
if of a coming fate, 



148 Army and Other Sketches. 

I have but little more to relate. A half an hour 
after, a bugle near the tent sounded revelle, and the 
sleeping hosts awoke to life and activity. Soon af- 
ter, and not till then, did I know to whom I was in- 
debted for what I must always believe to be a care 
which preserved my life, nor did he know who was the 
suffering civilian whom he had found alone, friend- 
less, and almost dying. The former was General T. 
E. G. Ransom. He had cared for me without know- 
ing anything save that I was suffering and needed 
assistance. He had delayed his march to accommo- 
date my weakness; and he had given up his own 
bed, and slept on the ground, without shelter, that 
he might administer to the comfort of an unknown 
sufferer. 

I never met that boyish face and slight form 
again in life. Once after, I joined a cortege which 
moved to a cemetery of the Garden City; and the 
wailing dirges of the band were but a faint reflex of 
the sorrow that filled my soul at the thought that 
the most gallant, tender, chivalrous soul of the age 
had taken forever its leave of earth. 




A DESPARADO WHO WOULD NOT 
STAY KILLED. 

N" the early part of 1862, there was a jolly and 
eager crowd gathered in room 45, St. Char- 
les Hotel, Cairo, Illinois. All, or nearly all, 
of them were Bohemians, who represented the 
majority of the newspapers of prominence in the 
North. There were the sedate and puritanical- 
looking Richardson, of the New York Tribune; the 
foppish exquisite, Carroll, of the Louisville Journal; 
the grave-visaged Matteson, of the Chicago Post; the 
precise and somewhat elegant Whitlaw Reid, of the 
Cincinnati Gazette; the acidulated and undersized 
" Mack," of the Cincinnati Commercial; the bluff 
and rotund Bodman, of the Chicago Tribune; the 
saintly-looking Nathan Shepherd, of the New York 
World; the jaundiced, but gentlemanly Coffin, of 
the Boston Journal; the tall and slender Lovie, of 
Frank Leslie; Meissner, of the Chicago Times; 
" Galway," of the New York Times; Simplot, of 
Harper's; and some others whose names do not oc- 
cur to me. 

Whenever a newspaper man registered at the St. 
Charles, he was assigned to 45, regardless of the 
number already there. As there was but two beds 
in the room ; and as the beds, by the utmost stretch, 
would never accommodate more than three respect- 
ively ; and as there were always from ten to twenty 



150 Army and Other Sketches. 

in the room, — it ever happened that there was a 
margin of Bohemians who slept on the tables, or 
sought the comforts of such slumber as could be 
wooed from a bed of flooring and a pillow construct- 
ed of a carpet-bag, or the hollow of a saddle. But 
it was all right. He who slept on the floor the last 
night would retire early the next night, taking the 
middle of whichever bed was vacant ; for among the 
rules of the fraternity was one that all things except 
tooth-brushes were in common, and he who first 
gained possession of anything held it, for the time, 
by an inalienable right. 

I recall these things, not because they are precisely 
pertinent to what I am about to relate, but because 
one who dates a ay occurrence from Room 45 can not 
resist going over the whole ground. All about the 
room has a more or less intimate relation with the 
history of the rebellion, and is full of personal inter- 
est, whether one recalls the immaculate Reid, dilat- 
ing upon his intimacy with the family of one who 
has since risen to the highest judicial honors in the 
gift of the Republic ; or Richardson, gravely ex- 
pounding Buckle's History of Civilization ; or 
Meissner, .going to bed at midday with his boots on ; 
or Carroll^ arraying himself, at two o' clock in the 
morning, in faultless linen, and stimulating him- 
self with a cup of hot tea, in order to write a letter ; 
or little " Mack," swearing like a seven-foot pirate. 

There was another character there, — a slender, 
wiry, handsome, fresh-cheeked young man, known 
as Carson. He was from Chicago, was a scout in 
the service of Grant, and a correspondent of a news- 
paper. He was one of the finest-looking and brav- 
est young fellows that I ever knew. 



A Desperado ivho would not stay Killed. 151 

When news was scarce, the Bohemians would 
sometimes accompany Carson on his scouting expe- 
ditions. At first he had no trouble about volunteers; 
but later there grew apace an unwillingness to scout 
with the young dare-devil, as it was found that 
scouting, under his lead, meant hard riding, hard 
knocks, and no account of odds in numbers. Hence, 
the eagerness to escape the tedium of no war news, 
finally resulted in recreations at billiards, economical 
draw-poker, and universal growling. 

One afternoon Carson burst into the room with 
a haste that promised somet'hing of unusual import- 
ance. 

"Now, boys," said he, in a cheery voice, " who's 
in for a little fun?" 

"Fun, h — 11!" growled the little gentleman from 
Cincinnati, as he rubbed carefully that portion of the 
human frame which usually comes in contact with 
the saddle. "I've had enough of your d — d fun to 
last me till after Lent!" 

Carson proceeded to buckle on his sabre, to 
sling a carbine over his shoulder, and to examine the 
caps of his navy revolver. "Come, boys, it's only 
a little scout over into Missouri, — a short ride, not 
much danger, and plenty of fun. Come, now, 
who'll go?" 

" Not any for me!" 

" I've had a piece of that!" 

" I'll see you about it in the fall!" 

" Go to thunder with your plenty of fun!" 

" One charge of buckshot in my blanket now!" 

Such were the remarks that greeted Carson's invi- 
tation, with a score of others that I have forgotten. 
The only one who said nothing was myself. I had 
but lately reached Cairo, and having never been out 



152 Army and Other Sketches. 

with him, I had a strong desire to go. Accordingly, 
I announced my intention. It was greeted with a 
roar of laughter and ironical sympathy and con- 
gratulation. 

"Bully youth!" 

" Good-bye, old fellow! Where do you want your 
remains sent?" 

"Don't get ahead of Carson in a charge, will 
you?" 

And so on. Nevertheless, I persisted in my deter- 
mination, and, an hour later, we had been ferried 
over to Bird's Point, had passed through Dick 
Oglesby's command, and were hurrying on our way, 
at a gallop, through the mud and water of an ex- 
ecrable road that led through the timber across 
the Mississippi " bottom." Besides Carson and my- 
self, there were two soldiers. All of us were well 
mounted, and, save myself, all were armed with 
sabre, revolver, and carbine. The mud soon grew 
so deep that a gallop became impossible. We there- 
fore fell into a walk, and it was now, for the first 
time, that I was put in possession of the object of 
the expedition. I will give the substance of what 
Carson told me, using my own, instead of his vigor- 
ous language. 

The vast, swampy region opposite Cairo, in Mis- 
souri, was occupied by Jeff Thompson. He was no- 
where when sought for, and everywhere when not 
wanted. He committed no great amount of dam- 
age, save that he kept Cairo, the base of our future 
operations down the Mississippi and up the Cumber- 
land and Tennessee rivers, infested with spies, who 
accurately informed the rebel commanders at Colum- 
bus, and in eastern Kentucky, of Grant's probable 
intentions. 



A Desperado ivho would not stay Killed. 153 

On that morning a noted bushwhacker, whose 
person and habits were well known in Cairo, had 
been seen near Grant's headquarters. A search had 
been made for him, but he had suddenly disappeared. 
Some information of his haunts had been communi- 
cated to Grant, and Carson had been started across 
the river, with the hope that he might be intercepted 
at a certain point, a settlement some twelve miles 
from Bird's Point. 

As I was further informed, this man was a noted 
desperado, and was the hero of a hundred personal 
fights, in which he was generally the victor. He 
had killed a half-dozen men outright, and had 
maimed and mortally injured many others, until 
he had become the terror of the region which he in- 
habited. Several attempts had been made to kill 
him, but, in nearly every case, with a disatrous re- 
sult to those attempting it. He seemed to bear a 
charmed life. He had been " cut to pieces" in a 
half-dozen fights, and yet, in a week or two, he was 
around again, as well, as quarrelsome, and as dang- 
erous as ever. 

It was related that a man whom he had a quarrel 
with, had waylaid him one night, and had discharg- 
ed a heavy load of buckshot into him. The assassin 
fled as he saw his opponent fall heavily from his 
horse. His horror may be imagined when, the next 
time he ventured into town and into the village gro- 
cery, he found his enemy at the bar, and taking a 
drink with the gusto of a man uninjured by buck- 
shot or bullets. At another time, he was found 
dead drunk upon an immense hollow log, a short 
distance into the country. The opportunity was too 
good to be lost, and so a fire was kindled in the log, 
just beneath him, and he was left fco his fate. He 



154 Army and Other Sketches. 

lay there and broiled until, as was asserted, one. 
whole side of him "was burnt to a cinder;" and 
yet, a few weeks afterwards, he was around, appa- 
rently as hearty as ever. 

These and a dozen similar incidents were related 
by Carson, and the effect was very far from mak- 
ing me pleased with the prospect. Nevertheless, it 
was too late to retreat, and I kept on hoping the 
best, yet fearing the worst. 

The settlement which we were approaching, was 
the one in which resided this desperado. It was 
supposed that he had gone home to spend the night, 
and that we should find him there at any time be- 
fore daylight the next morning, when he would 
probably leave for the headquarters of Thompson. 

By Carson's orders, we made a wide detour, and 
thereby avoided the little town where our prey was 
waiting. Carson was thoroughly acquainted with 
the country ; and so well did he conduct us that, 
without meeting a human being, or passing a house, 
we reached, about nine o'clock, a road that led into 
the town, and which road was exactly opposite the 
one by which we had left Bird's Point. In other 
words, the town was between us and Cairo, and we 
were upon the road that led from the town to the 
point supposed to be occupied by Jeff. Thompson. 
Our man would approach along this road, and hence 
we were sure of meeting him, if the supposition 
were correct that he would spend the night with his 
family. 

We moved up to within a mile of the settlement, 
and then halted at a deserted log-house. The horses 
were hitched behind the building, without having 
their bridles or saddles taken off; and every disposi- 
tion was made for instant movement. We took 






A Desperado who would not stay Killed. 155 

turns in watching the road, while the ones not on 
duty wrapped themselves in blankets and slept. 

Daylight came without there having occurred any 
thing of note. We waited until sunrise, and then 
mounted and moved toward the town. Carson 
swore savagely under the impression that our man 
had taken some other route. 

The road led up a gentle ascent to a broad table- 
land, upon which the little settlement was located. 
We proceeded at a walk until we reached the brow 
of the ascent, and the place became visible. 

It was a collection of a dozen or so rough houses, 
built around a square. Three horses were hitched 
in front of a small building. The moment Carson 
caught sight of the animals, he exclaimed: 

" There's his horse, by G — !" 

At the same instant, he drove his spurs into his 
beast, and shot forward like an arrow. Just then, 
three men issued from the building, and, attracted 
by the clatter of hoofs, they turned towards us, and 
then, with incredible quickness, they threw the reins 
over their horses' necks, and leaped into the saddles. 
One of them swerved to the left, another to the right, 
and the third went like the wind on the road to 
Cairo. 

Carson seemed to only see this man, and followed 
directly after him. I followed Carson. 

I happened to be well-mounted, and had no diffi- 
culty in keeping within sight of the chase. The ani- 
mal ridden by the man whom we were pursuing was 
a splendid beast; but its muddy appearance and 
rough coat indicated a long journey. However, 
both Carson and myself gained on the rider, slowly, 
but perceptibly. 



156 Army and Other Sketches. 

The road ran across a table-land, and then de- 
scended gently for a long distance, till it reached the 
muddy tk bottom." 

We had not descended more than half the road to 
the bottom, when Carson had gained upon the pur- 
sued until he was within thirty paces. At this in- 
stant he called in a resolute voice: 

"Halt!" 

For a reply, the man wheeled in his saddle, and 
fired a shot from a revolver. I heard the whiz of 
of the bullet as it went over my head. 

The next moment, I saw a puff of smoke from 
Carson's pistol. There was a sharp report, and, 
at the same instant, I saw the butternut coat of 
the pursued give a sudden flap in the centre of 
his back, accompanied by the rise of a little cloud of 
dust. 

But the bushwacker rode on. Carson was closing 
with him rapidly, and I was some ten or fifteen 
paces in the rear of the latter. 

I saw Carson return his revolver to his belt, and 
draw his sabre. His horse's head now lapped the 
flanks of the other. He brought his sabre to a 
charge. 

" Halt ! will you?" he thundered. 

The man rode on. In an instant Carson drove his 
sabre forward. It entered somewhere near the 
right shoulder-blade, and passed completely through 
the body. The next moment, the man reeled wildly, 
and then, with a vain effort to grasp the mane of 
his horse, he tumbled heavily to the ground. 

A minute later, we had checked our horses, and 
had reined up beside the fallen man. He lay on his 
face ; blood reddened his lips ; his eyes rolled fear- 



A Desperado who ivould not stay Killed. 157 

fully ; and he gasped as if throttled by a strong 
hand. 

"It's all up with him this time," said Carson, as 
he dismounted. " However, I'll make sure, and put 
him out of his misery." He pulled out his revolver, 
and, holding it a couple of inches away from, and 
directly over, the prostrate man's heart, he fired. 
There was a quick convulsion of the frame, and the 
bearded, fierce-looking spy, with his long, unkempt 
hair, lay motionless. 

Carson searched the body, and found a paper con- 
cealed in the lining of his slouch-hat. Upon it was 
some highly important information concerning our 
forces, and contemplated movements. 

Leaving the still rebel where he had fallen, we 
continued our route to Cairo, knowing that the body 
would be attended to by friends who would follow 
to learn the result of the pursuit. 



About five weeks later, I was at the landing when 
the ferry-boat came over from Bird's Point. Some 
butternut suits attracted my attention, and, upon 
looking closer, I saw a squad of a half-dozen bush- 
whackers, who were marched ashore, under guard 
of some Federal soldiers. I looked curiously at 
them as they passed. One of them was a burly, un- 
couth-looking ruffian. His face was deadly pale, 
and his eyes bloodshot ; but, despite this, I recog- 
nized in an instant, in the peculiar countenance, the 
bushy beard, and long hair, the desperado whom 
Carson had sabred, and twice shot through the 
body. He appeared but little the worse for his treat- 
ment ; and, so far as I know, he is yet alive, and as 
impervious as ever to steel, fire or revolver. 



158 



Army and Other Sketches. 



I have only to add that this account is substan- 
tially a true one, as may be proved by scores who 
were in Cairo in 1862. 




AMONG THE GUERRILLAS. 




HERE were a good many very respectable 
men who took a deep interest in the late 

\§p6 J & war. Among them were some — in fact, no 

eP small number — who demonstrated their inter- 
est not by shouldering a musket, or buckling 
on a sabre, but by gathering up such articles of 
value as were scattered in the crash of things, and 
the universal spilling, overflowing, and confusion 
that prevailed wherever there were any operations. 

Among these there was a class who may be termed 
gleaners. They followed in the track of the oppos- 
ing forces, and carefully raked up any little thing 
which might prove to be of value. Those gentle- 
men who charged themselves with the pleasing task 
of gathering up abandoned plantations, were among 
those gleaners. Some of them got rich by it. A 
good many of them did not. 

Messrs. John Marsh, and George McLeland re- 
solved some time during the closing years of the 
war, to go into the gleaning business. Both were 
and are Illinoisans. The former is fat and a little 
lame. The other is immensely thin and a good deal 
deaf. Both were rich, but both wanted more. 
Thereupon each of them had their respective checks 
cashed for a few thousand dollars. Putting a clean 
shirt apiece in their carpet-sacks, they bade adieu 



160 Army and Other Sketches. 

to their weeping families and embarked on a 
steamer at Rock Island, and started southward. 

Of the tremendous perils which these two glean- 
ers experienced in getting to Helena, it would be 
harrowing to speak in detail. The number of times 
they weren't shot at by prowling bushwhackers, se- 
creted behind wood-piles, on the levees, was beyond 
computation. Probably several hundred would be a 
very low estimate. 

Both laid low, and were prepared for vigorous 
dodging in case of an attack. McLeland usually 
occupied a horizontal position, with his head point- 
ing to one shore, and his feet to the other, under the 
belief that he thus presented the smallest possible 
mark for a rebel rifleman. Mr. John Marsh, who 
was about as thick when lying as when standing, 
was unpleasantly situated. He proposed to his com- 
panions that he (Marsh) ought to have two-thirds of 
the profits, as he, owing to his size, ran two-thirds of 
the danger. 

To which McLeland, being stingy as well as thin, 
declined to accede. And thereupon arose a slight 
coolness between the whilom friends. 

Beautiful Helena was at length reached, and soon 
after, a corpulent traveler, with a carpet-sack and a 
slight limp, and an enormously tall man with a car- 
pet-sack and a sole-leather countenance, might have 
been seen ascending the romantic levee in search of 
quarters. 

A week later, the same two individuals were in- 
stalled as lessees of a thriving, productive, and ad- 
mirably situated plantation. 

And now began the business. Contrabands by the 
score were obtained from the depot, in the propor- 
tion of three obese negresses, eleven children, clad 



Among the Guerillas. 161 

at the rate of one shirt to the dozen, five dogs, and 
one lame mule, to each able-bodied negro. Thus, 
the getting together say twenty able-bodied Africans 
involved the assembling of almost a thousand other 
things, including old negroes and pickaninies, 
feather-beds and dodger kettles, and other traps 
and paraphernalia without limit, and sufficient to 
start a good-sized city. 

Messrs. Marsh and McLeland being philanthropic, 
were kindly disposed to all these arrivals. They 
opened primary schools, in which the young nig- 
gers were taught not to chew tobacco, and en- 
couraged to stand on their heads, or to execute a 
break-down. 

All the old aunties of the settlement came in for 
much good instruction from these kindly old men. 
They were put under a gentle course of instruction, 
whose main feature was their duty to get back to 
Helena by the first conveyance, in order not to pro- 
duce a scarcity in the provender of bacon and meal 
laid in by Messrs. Marsh and McLeland. With the 
delightful tractability of the docile African, the 
good old aunties heard and concluded to — stay, 
which they did. 

And thus things went on under the new rule. The 
crop was put in. Save an occasional accident, in 
which the bulky Marsh sat down on a young darkey, 
to the great discomfort of the latter, or the lengthy 
McLeland broke his head in trying to get into a 
negro shanty, the world went well with them. The 
cotton came in green beauty, and already had the 
gleaners figured up the number of bales, the profits 
thereon, and the pecuniary results, which were divi- 
ded m imagination. 



162 Army and Other Sketches. 

But a crisis was approaching these two good men 
with the swift noiselessness of a prowling tiger. 

Their plantations were outside the lines. With 
infinite difficulty had each of them broken himself 
to riding a mule. McLeland had the best luck in 
the operation. His length of legs enabled him to 
stand over a mule as the Colossus of Khodes bestrode 
the passing ships. When he wished to ride he 
widened his lower extremities and the mule was 
backed under by a nigger ; then he lowered himself 
a trifle, drew up his knees to his chin, and was 
mounted. When the mule was refractory and be- 
gan to plunge, then the rider simply lowered his 
feet till they touched the ground. And then the 
mule walked off. 

Mr. John Marsh had more difficulty. No small 
mule could carry him, and no large mule would 
carry him. Thereupon he was reduced to an ancient 
animal which was too stiff to rear, and too old to 
kick. Him he mounted, after many attempts. In 
time, by holding tight to the mane, he could retain 
his position. Experience made him bold, and he 
finally became a most daring rider. If the mule did 
not lower his head and stop suddenly, he would ride 
from Helena to the plantation without once falling 
off. 

One gentle afternoon the two companions mount- 
ed their prancing steeds and started for the planta- 
tion. They passed the pickets at a tremendous rate., 
and entered the open country. 

Each had in his belt some thousands of dollars in 
greenbacks. 

They were armed to the teeth. McLeland had a 
formidable jack-knife, while about the waist of 
Marsh was buckled a revolver, three inches in length, 



Among the Guerillas. 163 

and which had been loaded only some two years pre- 
vious. Thus armed, what cared they for the fact 
that a force of guerrillas had been seen, the day be- 
fore, but a few miles away? Marsh wouldn't have 
given a cent over a thousand dollars to have been 
safe in his Illinois home. McLeland wouldn't have 
raised the amount over 100 per cent, to have been in 
the same place. 

And thus darkly musing, they rode valorously on, 
keeping a vigilant out-look over their shoulders. 

And now the crisis was upon them. 

It took the shape of a squad of butternuts who 
suddenly reined up before them and menaced them 
with huge horse-pistols and colossal shot-guns. 

McLeland saw them, lowered his feet to the 
ground, backed from off his mule, and prepared for 
instantaneous fight. Marsh tried to get off his mule 
in order to flee into Hepsidam, or anywhere else, 
but there being no nigger handy, he was unable to 
dismount without assistance. A butternut planted 
himself before McLeland, and cut off his retreat. 

They were penned ! 

" Hand over !" came in stern accents from the ruf- 
fianly leader. 

After much searching in various pockets, Marsh 
found a plug of tobacco, which he sorrowfully passed 
to the brigand. Then he sought long and earnestly, 
and fished out a pocket-comb. " Take it," said he, 
in a sad tone, " 'tis all I have. I am now a broken, 
ruined old man !" 

'You be d — d !" roared the ruffian. "Come, out 
with yer stamps !" 

Again did the sorrowing Marsh investigate his 
clothes. Infinite search produced a shirt-button, a 
dirty collar, and a hymn-book. "There, unfeeling 



164 Army and Other Sketches. 

wretch, is me all ! Take them, and let me go away 
and die !" 

" Look here, old hoss, if you don't shell out some 
greenbacks, I'll " 

Just then there was heard the clank of sabres and 
the clatter of horses' feet. 

"Yanks, by G — ! Skedaddle, boys;" and so say- 
ing the butternuts drove the spurs into their horses, 
and, in a twinkling, had disappeared in the timber. 

"What's the matter?" inquired McLeland, whose 
deaf ears had not taken in a word of the conversa- 
tion. 

Robbers," was the reply roared into his organ of 
hearing. 

"Robbers! Oh Lord! Robbers!" and just then he 
caught sight of an approaching dust, in which could 
be seen the outlines of horses and riders. " Rob- 
bers," he roared; "there they come again! Oh 
dear !" He looked wildly about for a refuge. A 
little way off he saw a shanty about which were 
grouped some Africans. Hope awoke in his breast. 
Fiercely he tugged at his clothing. He tore open 
his vest, he unbuckled his money belt, he flew to the 
negroes, and throwing them the belt, he said: 

"Men and brethren, keep this for me till the rob- 
bers pass." They seized upon it and said, "Thanks, 
masser." 

And then he strode back, and awaited with calm 
resignation the approach of the robbers. They came 
up. 

They were a company of Federal scouts in search 
of guerrillas. Their leader was the friend of Mr. 
Marsh and Mr. McLeland. They were rejoiced to 
see him. They told him their heart-rending adven- 
ture. 



Among the Guerrillas. 165 

And then the Federals pushed on the trail of the 
guerrillas. And then Mr. McLeland went and 
claimed his money belt from the faithful Africans. 

The faithful Africans were not where he left 
them. 

Nor at any other place which he has been able to 
discover from that day to the present time. 

A broken-hearted old man, named McLeland, or 
something like it, now passes a sad existence at the 
lovely village of Geneseo, in this State. 

He has a mournful experience to relate of cotton 
worms, of failure in cotton planting, and of the loss 
of $10,000 which he had in a money-belt. 

Mr. John Marsh has country quarters at Elgin. 
He is still portly, a little lame, and given to relating 
the miraculous adventures which* he once passed 
through in cotton planting below Helena. 







UNCLE TAMES AND THE BULL. 



n f a-g, tf 



ecX 




^AVING successfully exhibed all the various 
suits of clothing in my family party, and 
finding my finances getting low, in conse- 
quence of responding to the appeals for pecun- 
iary aid of the gentlemanly landlord with 
whom I resided, I concluded to hunt a cheaper 
locality. When one leaves Magara or Saratoga, 
after a lengthened sojourn, his most natural destin- 
ation is a poor-house. 

But it was not in search of a poor-house that I 
came hitherward. I am not disposed to slander 
Vermont hospitality with any such remark. 

If a man who has been stopping a few weeks at 
Magara or Saratoga can not get admittance to a 
poor-house, the next best thing he can do is to 
"take" the bankrupt act. A receipted hotel-bill 
from either of these places will be accepted by any 
bankrupt-commissioner as final evidence of remedi- 
less poverty. It ought to procure his discharge with- 
out further difficulty. 

To get to Vermont from Saratoga, one goes to 
Whitehall, and thence to Rutland. Between the 
two places, the Vermont line is crossed. I knew we 
had crossed it by the coming on the train of a 
stranger who sat down by me, and commenced an 
acquaintance by inquiring where I was going, how 
long I was going to stay, where I came from, what 



Uncle James and the Bull, 167 

the price of butter was when I left, and whether I 
knew Deacon Doggett, who lived out in Illinois. 

From Rutland to Burlington, one passes a few 
handsome villages and some rocks. There is a great 
variety of the latter. They are piled up to immense 
heights. A little timber is scattered over them, and 
some grass grows here and there among the crevices. 
Here these crevices are fenced in, and are called 
pastures. All the cattle that pasture on these crevi- 
ces are rigged out with brakes, without which they 
could not get down the hills. 

My present stopping- place is at the foot of the 
Green Mountains, a few miles east of Burlington. 
The country is primitive, and there are some rocks 
here. The inhabitants are distinguished for longev- 
ity, hospitality, radicalism, asthma, the use of pat- 
ent medicines, and for being pervaded with an in^ 
sane idea that this portion of Vermont is the loca- 
tion of the original Eden. 

A man of note in this vicinity has from 50 to 100 
cows, 600 acres of land, a span of No. 1 horses, two 
fancy sheep, and a sugar-orchard. A man who has 
all these may run for the Assembly if he pleases, or 
be a deacon in the Church. 

Real estate hereabouts is mostly rocks set up on 
edge, with grassy crevices for the cows. A Ver- 
mont cow understands herself. She can climb rocks 
like a squirrel, and she gets fat and gives twelve 
quarts of milk from feed that is not visible to any 
thing less than a microscope of forty diameters. 

Uncle James, with whom I am stopping, has a 
bull and the phthisic. Yesterday the bull got in the 
orchard, and Uncle James, accompanied by his 
phthisic and a big gad, went down to drive the 
bull out. 



168 Army and Other Sketches. 

Now, what I am about to demonstrate is, that, in 
a race, it depends a good deal upon who is ahead. 

I sat at the window and timed the little dash. At 
the send-off, the bull led Uncle James and the gad 
about two lengths. Up to the first quarter, the gait 
was moderate. Uncle James steadily gained on the 
bull, until, at the first quarter, the gad just lapped 
the bull from head to tail. 

At this precise point, they disappeared behind the 
rise of ground, the bull just neck and neck with the 
gad, Uncle James one length behind the bull. 

The second and third quarters of the track were 
hidden behind the rise of ground. The fourth quar- 
ter, or home-stretch, was plainly visible from where 
I sat; and I awaited their appearance with thrilling 
anxiety. 

In about five minutes, they rounded the turn and 
emerged on the home-stretch. Uncle James was 
ahead. The bull was about eighteen inches behind, 
and gaining. The gad was nowhere visible. 

The gait was terriffic. Uncle James had his head 
over one shoulder. The bull had his head close to 
the ground. Uncle James' gait was a mixture of 
trot, lope, and stumble. The bull was on a clean 
gallop, with his tail as straight up as a liberty pole. 

It was a beautiful burst of speed. Nothing like it 
was ever seen. They neared the come-out at a three- 
minute gait. It was almost a dead heat. As Uncle 
James went over the wire — a stone wall — the bull's 
horns were neatly interwoven with his coat-tails. 
Uncle James won by a bare length, which he meas- 
ured on the other side of the fence. In comparing 
the merits of the two, I should state that, while the 
bull has the most wind, Uncle James has the most 
bottom. 



Uncle James and the Bull. 169 

Summary. — Race around the orchard; single-dash, — best one in 
two: 

Uncle James, ----- 1 

Bull, 2 

Gad, - Distanced 

First quarter, -------- 3^ minutes 

Second and third quarters, ------ Unknown 

Fourth quarter, 1 min. 28 sec. 

You see we have our little amusements here as 
well as you do in Chicago. 

The other day a party of us went up on Mansfield 
mountain. This mountain is a swelling in the Green 
Mountains, and is a place of fashionable resort from 
Boston. Almost every young lady whom I saw up 
in the mountain wore spectacles, and quoted Emer- 
son when she was about to ask a servant for some 
more beans. 

To go up Mansfield mountain, you take a vehi- 
cle as far as you can, and then ride a horse the re- 
mainder of the way. The vehicular part of the route 
is pleasant, especially if you have good company. 
Good company as I understand it, means somebody 
of the opposite sex. 

The horse part of the journey is not so pleasant. 
An equestrian riding up the outside of the walls of 
the court-house in Chicago, would be somewhat like 
riding a horse up Mansfield mountain — only less so. 
Of the two, the mountain is the steeper, and the as- 
cent more dangerous and difficult. 

A man who rides up, and doesn't anathematize 
himself for being a jackass for undertaking the trip, 
has no proper appreciation of himself or his sur- 
roundings. 

After what seems a couple of weeks or so, one gets 
to the top. Then, if one has an overcoat and a fur 
collar, the affair becomes pleasant. Seated by a 



170 Army and Other Sketches. 

good fire, in the cozy hotel at the summit, with a 
good cigar and a bottle of ale, one can enjoy him- 
self as well as though he were at home. 

If one admires them, he can go out, stand in the 
wind, and catch cold and views of the surrounding 
country. The view one gets is fine, but imperfect 
owing to the fact that Chicago is not visible. 

There was a good deal of Boston company at the 
hotel. The ladies wore spectacles and thick shoes, 
and spent their time, when in-doors, in disputing 
over woman's mission, and, when out-doors, in chip- 
ping the rocks for geological specimens. Sometimes 
they varied these occupations by grim metaphysical 
flirtations with attendant gentlemen. 

Coming down the mountain is the same as going 
up, except that you see a bottomless abyss over your 
horse's head, whereas in going up you saw it over 
his tail. A fall either way would amount to the 
same thing in the end. 

People who' live at a distance, and can not go up 
Mansfield mountain, can experience the same sensa- 
tion by riding a horse along a narrow gutter on a 
six-story house. There is no more danger in the 
effort, and it is less expensive. 

Vermont is a fine state in the way of rocks, cheese 
factories, pretty girls, and antique old gentlemen of 
ninety. One house where I visited had four gen- 
erations living in it. Some other houses have five. 
As near as I can learn, they don't die in this vicinity. 
When a man gets to be a hundred or so, they bury 
him alive. 

The productions of the state are various. Blooded 
sheep, costing originally $2 per head, are sold often 
for $2,500. The maple-sugar here is different from 
what we get in Chicago. So are the milk, and the 






Uncle James and the Bull. 171 

butter, and the cheese. Making cheese is a staple 
business. There is usually a cheese-factory at every 
four corners, with a pretty woman or two slopping 
around in the whey. 

Occasionally one sees some rocks. Upon these 
rocks there are some more rocks, and some others 
upon them, Upon the whole of them, there are, 
usually, some rocks. Sometimes one finds upon the 
top of all this pile some more rocks. 

They have a breed of animals here known as 
kaows. The kaow has horns and a tail, and gives 
milk without water in it. The kaow is a very useful 
animal. 

Almost all the old people hereabouts have a sec- 
ond growth of hair and a third set of teeth. They 
are experimenting upon two or three specimens, to 
see how long they will live. Two of them are yet 
hale and active, but they are so old that every body 
has forgotten how old they are. One of them lost a 
beloved grandchild of 101, who went West on a 
pleasure trip, and got snapped up by a western fever. 

There are a good many other things that I would 
like to describe. None of the girls chew gum. They 
give a man more at a meal here than one gets in a 
week at a first-class hotel any where else. A square 
meal here includes warm biscuits, cold bread, pork 
and beans, butter, cheese, four kinds of sauce, three 
kinds of cake, "punkin"pie, apple pie, "punkin" 
pie, grape pie, "punkin" pie, and "punkin" pie. 
Their " punkin " pie beats the world. Besides these 
articles, there are half a dozen others, all equally 
good. 




SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF ALLA- 
TOONA. 

HE battle of Allatoona has never been 
written up as it deserves. The few histo- 
(cpf^ rians who have arisen since the close of the 
<Vj3^ war have dished it in a paragraph, in which 
were contained a few statistics as to forces, 
the length and result of the battle, and a com- 
pliment to the endurance and pluck of the Fed- 
eral commander. And yet, this battle of Allatoona, 
considered with reference to the numbers engaged, 
its duration, and the interest involved, was one of 
the most— if not the most — desperate, bloody, and 
gallant conflicts of the whole war. 

It is not my intention to write an extended account 
of the battle; it is merely proposed, in the present 
article, to embody a few salient recollections of some 
of the men and the incidents of that terrific fight. 

The soul, the inspiration, of Allatoona, was Gen- 
eral Corse. On that occasion, he shot upward to an 
altitude which, for many generations, will permit 
his being a conspicuous figure among the heroes of 
the war. 

When I first became acquainted with Corse, there 
was little or nothing in his appearance, position, or 
surroundings, to indicate that he would attain dis- 
tinction. He was a major of the 6th Iowa, of which 
regiment John A. McDowell, brother of General 



Some Recollections of Allatoona. 173 

McDowell, was colonel. The regiment was some- 
where in central Missouri, engaged in guarding 
some insignificant bridge. There was no glory in 
present duties, and no brighter outlook in the direc- 
tion of the future. 

Corse struck me then as being dissatisfied. Lately 
defeated as a candidate for a prominent political 
position in Iowa, he had gone into the field to relieve 
the pain of defeat. And now, guarding a railway 
bridge, and subject to the dilatory policy and ineffi- 
ciency of Fremont, there seemed little prospect of 
bettering his fortunes. 

Chafing, and discontented, he was driven back 
upon himself. The result was a species of religious 
outbreak. Corse, McDowell, and other officers, 
formed themselves into a sort of Calvinistic organi- 
zation. The chaplain prayed night and morning. 
McDowell prayed at the table. If Corse did not 
pray in public, he possibly did in secret. 

I remained with the regiment a while, but, finally, 
tired of its forced inaction, and not suited with the 
austerity that took possession of every face, and in- 
disposed to listen to McDowell's homilies on temper- 
ance and morality, I left. 

The next time I saw Corse was a week or two 
later, at Jefferson City. A steady diet of prayer, 
preaching, and Puritanical observances had been 
too much for him. He was going home on sick 
leave. I accompanied him to St. Louis, and thence 
up the railway that led to Burlington. His trouble 
seemed as much mental as physical. He suffered 
intense pain, and was so worn out and racked that, 
when I parted with him at Galesburg, I thought it 
scarcely probable that he would live to reach home. 



174 Army and Other Sketches. 

And yet the slight figure possessed more vitality 
than I supposed. When I next saw him, it was in 
April of the following year, 1862. He had then been 
assigned to staff duty, and was inspector general, I 
believe, with Pope, a little above Pittsburg Landing. 
He had lost his austerity, was bright, active, and 
elastic. He had secured something to do, and his 
vast ambition was gratified with the prospect of a 
promotion. 

From this period until the taking of Vicksburg, I 
saw him at intervals. He became attached to Sher- 
man, and being intrusted with some independent 
military operations connected with the disposition of 
Johnston, in the rear of Vicksburg, he so acquitted 
himself that Sherman recommended him for promo- 
tion, and he was made a brigadier-general. 

When Hood marched around Sherman's flank, at 
Atlanta, he meant mischief. He threw himself at 
once upon the latter's communications, and cut the 
railroad between Kenesaw and Allatoona. At the 
latter place were a million rations. To have de- 
stroyed these would have annihilated Sherman. 
From station to station, was signaled the news of 
Hood's movement, and Corse, who was at Rome, 
was ordered to Allatoona with all his disposable 
force. Cars were broken and unavailable, so that 
he was able to embark but 700 men. With these, 
and a plentiful supply of ammunition, he threw 
himself into Allatoona. And then the Confederate 
forces closed in upon him from every side. With 
less than 1,500 men, he occupied an insecure position, 
attacked by ten times his own number, and know- 
ing that upon his efforts depended the safety of 
Sherman's whole army, and the entire value of the 
campaign from Chattanooga to Atlanta, 



Some Recollections of Allcdoona. 175 

Every thing conspired to his isolation. The ab- 
sence of cars from Rome prevented his bringing up 
but a portion of his division. After his arrival, he 
attempted to signal to Sherman, who was on Kene- 
saw, twenty miles distant, his strength. He ordered 
the message : " Corse is here with a portion of 
his brigade, and must have reinforcements," to 
be sent. The flagman had gotten as far as: "Corse 
is here with — ," when a rebel shell cut his flagstaff! 
in pieces, and then he ingloriously fled. Sherman 
interpreted this as meaning, " Corse is here with 
his division." Therefore, he regarded the situation 
of Allatoona as comparatively safe, although he 
pushed forward Cox to menace Hood, and to assist 
in the defence. 

It was at one o'clock in the morning that the Con- 
federates commenced their attack. There was a 
cessation a little after daylight, for the sending in of 
a demand for a surrender, whose tenor and whose 
gallant reply have become historical. And then the 
battle was renewed. Allatoona was a small island, 
against which dashed overwhelming and angry 
tides. In a little time, the heavy, surging columns 
of grey, had gradually driven in the advanced and 
slender forces of Corse, until there remained to him 
only a small work, near the summit, which com- 
manded the supplies, and against which the mad- 
dened enemy now bent all his energies to capture. 

The little earth- work, with its outlying ditch, be- 
came a red-hot volcano, and a slaughter-pen. It 
commanded the approaches of an assaulting party, 
and it was commanded by Confederate artillery. It 
was red with the flashes of its guns, and the blood 
of its defenders. It rained death like some vast and 
infernal engine j and it was a huge furnace which 



176 Army and Other Sketches. 

roasted to cinders its contents. It was deadly alike 
to friend and enemy. 

Extending southwest of this fort was a ridge, from 
which projected numerous wooden spurs. Forming 
behind these spurs, the columns of the Confederate 
Young would deploy on the ridge, and hurl them- 
selves against the defences. It was the most acces- 
ible, and yet the most defensible, position. 

On the north and east sides of the fort the precip- 
itous, broken country rendered an assault in great 
force impossible. Hence, the key of the position 
was the point of the works facing the ridge on the 
southwest. At this point were the main assaults ; 
and here were exerted the most strenuous efforts of 
the defenders. 

A short distance in front of the fort, and across 
the brow of this ridge, was a ditch, waist-deep, per- 
haps. Into this ditch were thrown as many men as 
could be spared without weakening the other posi- 
tions. 

From one o'clock in the morning, save the half 
hour or so occupied in delivering and returning the 
demand for a surrender, the enemy deluged the 
heights with shot and shell. When the smoke lifted 
during the advance ot the flag of truce, the grey col- 
umns could be seen at every point of the compass, 
moving into position, and closing up their cordon 
about the hill. 

If the sparse few who saw these hosts, grew dis- 
couraged, and concluded that defense was useless, 
they were scarcely to be blamed. They were out- 
numbered, ten to one, and many believed that a re- 
sistance would only provoke exasperation, and re- 
sult in a massacre. 



Some Recollections of Allatoona. 177 

The commander had therefore, to struggle not 
only against numerical superiority, but against a 
feeling of discouragement, that took possession of 
many of the men. As noon approached, and the at- 
tacks of the Confederates had reduced the Federal 
force to less than a single regiment, the discourage- 
ment of his men changed into despair, and Corse 
found the position beset by new difficulties. He 
feared that there might be soldiers who would regard 
surrender as a righteous alternative to a continued 
defense, which promised no more than speedy cap- 
ture and massacre by the men whom the tenacity of 
the defence had driven to madness. To guard 
against any such attempt as to run up a white flag, 
he made himself omnipresent. He encouraged with 
electric words those who clung to their positions; he 
drove laggards into the ditches with savage impre- 
cations; and he menaced with a cocked revolver 
any one who ventured to hint that further resistance 
was useless. He moved ceaselessly from point to 
point, and was the genius who ruled the whirlwind 
that raged around the crests of Allatoona. 

In a little ditch facing the ridge to the southwest, 
lay a portion of the 39th Iowa infantry, under com- 
mand of Lieutenant-Colonel James Eedfield. He 
was a good man to whom to intrust the key of the 
fortress. He had long courted a fight. He was 
anxious for distinction, and had often requested an 
opportunity to display his merits. He was gratified 
at Allatoona. He was given the post of danger and 
of honor. And gallantly did this other son of the 
Hawkeye State perform his task. Scorning the pro- 
tection of the ditch, he placed himself on the rise of 
ground behind it, whence he could overlook his 
men. It was in full view of the assaulting forces, 



178 Army and Other Sketches/ 

and he became the target of a thousand muzzles. 
He moved about in the iron tempest, and amidst 
the scorching flashes of shell and gun, like an in- 
carnation of invulnerability and command. When 
the serried masses of grey came up the crest, he was 
a grand central figure in the background. His 
waving sword, fierce oaths, and blazing eye rallied 
the energies of his men, and stimulated them to 
fresh exertions. His leg was broken, so that it dragged 
like some foreign body, and yet he refused to leave. 
They brought him a chair, and he planted himself 
squarely in his old position. Bullet after bullet 
struck him, but he never left his post. His words 
of cheer grew fainter, his oaths less forcible, his 
command less imperative. When the smoke from 
one of the terrible assaults rolled up, he was dead. 

A new danger now menaced the Federal com- 
mander. The muskets of his men began to burst at 
the muzzle, and there was danger that, in a little 
time, further defence would become impossible. In 
this emergency, he gathered all the wounded who 
were able to lift a gun, and, selecting those rifles 
which had burst, he placed them in the hands of the 
wounded, with the bayonets pointing outward. 
Here was an abattis of steel, feeble, it is true, but 
one which enabled him to utilize every element of 
strength in the command. 

About noon a bullet ploughed along Corse's tem- 
ple, and stretched him senseless. Had it passed the 
hundredth part of an inch more to the left, it would 
have ended the attack on Allatoona. But even while 
senseless, the indomitable spirit still controlled the 
prostrate body. An order, " Cease firing," awoke 
him to sufficient consciousness to fear that surrender 
was intended, and to fiercely countermand it. 



Some Recollections of Allatoona. 179 

A little later, with head swathed in bandages, cov- 
ered with blood, bare-headed, and blackened with 
powder, he was moving among the feeble remnants 
of his force, cursing, commanding, imploring a re- 
sistance to death. 

The men fought doggedly and despairingly on. 
There was not a man of them that expected any 
thing but death. The ditches became filled with 
dead, whose pale faces, rigid features, and ghastly 
wounds tended to fill the souls of the survivors with 
fresh despair. The Confederates charged up to the 
very brink of the rifle-pits, and their dead, as well 
as those of the Federals, began to choke the slender 
excavation, and make its occupation a matter of 
more and more difficulty. 

Seeing that the defenders of the southwest ridge 
were becoming weakened to an extent that would 
certainly prevent the repulse of another assault in 
force, Corse made preparations to assist them. A 
gun was dragged to an embrasure of the fort that 
commanded the ridge. The dead of the fort clogged 
his progress, and Corse removed them back, and 
piled them like a heap of cordwood, to make room 
for his single gun. Then the powder was cut 
loose from some fixed ammunition, and poured into 
the piece. A blanket was torn into square strips and 
wrapped around a quantity of minie balls. This 
improvised grape-shot was rammed home, and the 
gun sighted down the crest. With hand on lan- 
yard, a sergeant named Croxton, who was badly 
wounded, knelt beside the piece awaiting the criti- 
cal moment. 

It was about four o'clock, when solid masses of 
grey once more came from behind a protecting spur 
of the ridge, and formed across it. In a moment 



180 Army and Other Sketches. 

they were in order, and then, with shrill yells, they 
started toward the fort. It was the turning moment 
of the day. They were coming in force, and with a 
momentum that would have carried them over the 
slender obstructions of the ditch, and up to and into 
the fort. 

It was just at this instant that the gun prepared 
by Corse, was discharged. Its deadly contents tore 
through the deep ranks like wind through chaff. 
They melted before the hot blast, and disappeared. 

It was the last assault. The day was won. 

In this battle Corse lost over fifty per cent, of his 
forces. Nearly one-half were killed outright, and 
but few remained unwounded. He killed, wounded, 
and captured more of the enemy than he had men 
in his own command. 

For these reasons do I think the battle of Allatoona 
the most bloody, desperate, and gallant of the 
whole war. 





IE REVELATIONS OF A WINDOW. 

OR three or four years I lived in a certain 
part of a certain city, whose name or loca- 
tion is unimportant to che purpose of this 
sketch. It does not matter to the philosophic 
observer where a thing occurred. He knows 
that human nature is so alike in its phenom- 
ena, that something which takes place among 
the Kamtschatkans is subject to the same laws and 
deductions that is a similar affair developed among 
the citizens of Chicago. 

My place of business lay in one part of the city, 
and my residence at another; and so far apart were 
they that, in going from one to the other, I usually 
availed myself of a regular public conveyance. 
Owing to my confinement in the office, I invariably, 
when the weather permitted, rode outside. In this 
way, I always had plenty of fresh air, and an oppor- 
tunity to engage in my favorite pursuit of studying 
faces. 

At a certain part of the route, over which I passed 
every day, stood a two-story house. It was a struct- 
ure of moderate pretensions, with blinds, and a pi- 
azza, which, in summer, was clambered over by 
luxurious vines. There were two windows below, 
and three above. Of these three in the second story, 
one was, I suspect, a ".blind," for, during my three 
years' observation of the house, I never saw the 



182 Army and Other Sketches. 

shutters of this particular window unclosed. There, 
then, remained four windows — two above and two 
below; and it is to what I saw in, about and through 
these windows that I wish to invite the attention 
and judgment of the reader. 

The piazza was roofed over just above the first 
floor windows. In the summer time this piazza, to- 
wards evening, became a pleasant place in which to 
sit. The leafy vine shut out the heat, and the too 
curious observation of the public; and there were 
apertures between its branches, through which one, 
in passing, could obtain glimpses of those who might 
be sitting outside, or of the comfortable and well- 
furnished parlor within, when the shutters were 
open and the inside curtain not drawn down. 

My observation of this house began one spring, 
soon after a new family had moved into it. What 
particularly attracted my attention was the fact 
that, among other members of a family, which in- 
cluded a deformed brother and an old lady who ap- 
peared to be the mother, were two young women, 
whose ages might have been respectively between 
eighteen and twenty -two years. Neither was re- 
markable for either beauty or plainness. They were 
both tall, slender; with rather fine eyes, regular 
features, and very heavy masses of dark, wavy 
hair. Of course these peculiarities only revealed 
themselves by degrees. It took some months for 
me to be able to distinguish them apart, and to be- 
come familiar with their features, form and other 
traits. 

Sometimes I saw them seated on the portico, when 
I went up in the evening; but usually I saw them 
seated at the lower or upper windows. They were 
not always there when I passed, nor were they al- 






The Revelations of a Window. 183 

ways together. Sometimes I would not see either 
for several days. At times one would be seated in 
the parlor below, or one or the other would be stand- 
ing at the window above. In any case, I rarely ever 
had a view of them which lasted beyond a single 
glance, or, at most, for more than two or three sec- 
onds. The vehicle upon which I rode always moved 
rapidly, and hence there was but little time allowed 
for observation of any object along our route. 

The reader now has before him the book from 
which he is about to read. This book consists of 
two young ladies, neither ugly nor handsome, of me- 
dium intelligence, and who, together or singly, once 
in two or three days, were visible at the window for 
a space which varied from one to three seconds. It 
is a very small volume from which to attempt to 
read much; but it will, perhaps, be found that there 
is a good deal more in it than there seems to be. 
Eeading lives from faces is a species of short-hand 
process. It is full of delicate characters, each one 
of which expresses frequently a word, and often a 
whole sentence. 

The first thing that attracted my attention was, 
that neither of the two young women appeared at 
the windows except when she was, so to speak, in 
full costume. They were never visible in the morn- 
ing. Then the shutters were all closed. In the 
afternoon some of the lower shutters were usually 
open ; and, seated in full view of the street, was 
one or the other, or sometimes both. At such times, 
their toilets were elaborate. Their abundant hair 
was artistically arranged, and their position such as 
to show to the best advantage both hair and dress. 

There was something in the careful toilette and 
studied carelessness of their positions, which led to 



184 Army and Other Sketches. 

the conclusion that they had arranged them to at- 
attract attention. That they were unmarried, was 
evident from a hundred things, but chieflly that I 
never detected them in deshabille or gloved for 
household service. They were evidently unmarried, 
and were waiting and watching. 

The object for which they thus waited and watched 
was apparent. Something in their positions and 
faces revealed the secret. The former was always 
suggestive of what I may term "adhesiveness." 
When together they seemed to incline towards each 
other with a movement that appeared full of affec- 
tion, and which seemed to suggest the want of sup- 
port. They seemed like two vines which had com- 
menced twining about each other, and which by 
the very operation suggested the necessity of a 
stronger object upon which to twine. In short, there 
was something in their position with relation to each 
other which, while always attractive and interesting, 
unavoidably left the inference that there was want- 
ing the element of strength to complete the group. 
The void which thus always appeared was one which 
only could be filled by the strength of manhood. 
No young man could gaze upon the picture without 
seeing in it something which powerfully suggested 
to him that he should become a part of it. 

There was the same element of strength lacking 
in the positions assumed by either of them when she 
occupied the window alone. Of course, there was 
variety in her attitudes; but they all showed the 
same general character, and indicated the same re- 
sult. She would sit, for instance, as if waiting. Her 
body would be thrown forward ; her lips slightly 
parted, as if to welcome the comer, her head turned 
a little to one side, as if to catch the first foot-fall of 



The Revelations of a Window. 185 

the expected one. Her eyes had, apparently, a lan- 
guid, tender expression, as if the one who was com- 
ing were one who would be met with rapture. At 
other times, her attitude assumed the despondent. 
Her bowed head would rest in her hand ; her half- 
closed eyes would gaze pensively into vacuity; and 
her whole expression would be that of profound de- 
jection. 

If the one position was suggestive of welcoming 
some one, the other was equally suggestive of disap- 
pointment at the arrival of no one. The latter 
seemed to possess an expression of infinite loneliness, 
Its inference was, that someone was lacking, — 
somebody was wanted to chase away the loneliness, 
to afford the bowed head a support other than the 
slender hands, and to win the melting eyes from the 
waste of tenderness which they were softly flashing 
into vacancy. 

Was this nature or art? I will not undertake to 
say for the present. Suffice it, that in all their group- 
ings, attitudes and expression, they suggested invari- 
ably that there was an absent element. That element 
was not that of woman. They seemed to develop 
all that was womanly. The missing, the completing 
element, suggested itself as one of strength, of man- 
hood; of something which was the natural complete- 
ment, and yet the exact opposite, of the various 
qualities which they so constantly developed. 

It is probable that every young woman naturally 
expresses the same peculiar ideas that I gathered 
from these groups in the window; but, ordinarily, 
this is true only to a limited degree. In the case of 
the average of young woman, these suggestions are 
often scarcely understood by others; they are mys- 
terious, tormenting, uncertain; but in the case of the 



186 Army and Other Sketches. 

two of whom I write, the inference from their efforts 
was as plain as if written in a book. 

As I have said, I have concluded that they were 
waiting and watching. Deftly and patiently they 
wove a shining web across the sashes. Now one 
labored at it, now the other, and then both. Its 
threads sparkled in the sunlight, and were reflected 
with a shimmer which was sometimes that of silver, 
or again one which was iridescent in the variety of 
its coloring. It was a parti-colored and altogether 
attractive web. One day a masculine fly fell into it; 
and the labor was rewarded. 

I knew the fly was caught, because the labor at 
the web was discontinued; and I knew that nothing 
save 'death would turn a woman from her course 
when in pursuit of a husband. That they were not 
dead, I knew, for I continued to see them through 
the window. 

It was some weeks before I caught sight of a slen- 
der, weak-eyed youth, with a large head, and whom 
I knew to be the fly that had ventured into the Cir- 
cean web. But I knew that he — that is, some he — 
had become entangled. I discovered it through the 
window as easily as I had understood the process 
and objects of weaving the web. I knew it because 
the labor of weaving was discontinued. They came 
to the window as often as before; but the spirit 
which inspired the old groupings had gone. They 
now came and sat down the same as ordinary peo- 
ple. Neither expressed the action of waiting or ex- 
pectation in the turn of her head or the poise of 
her body. They sat down carelessly. They stared 
through the windows at the passers-by precisely the 
same as they would had the people been so many 
cattle. 



The Revelations of a Window. 187 

I readily discerned to whose share the victim had 
fallen. It was she who suddenly passed from a con- 
dition of pensive watching into one of common-place 
indifference. Hitherto she had always appeared as 
if expecting some one from the vacuity into which 
she gazed. All at once, she was found gazing 
straight into the street, or looking at her sister, as 
if the question of twining had become obsolete. Her 
hair lost its elaborate arrangement; her dress was 
now as often calico as silk, — as often thrown on 
loosely as it once had been fitted with the nicest 
care. 

It was some time before the victim was visible. I 
first noticed him leaning disconsolately against the 
window, and looking abstractedly at nothing. He 
was always alone. He never seemed to form a part 
of the tableau which had once so suggestively invited 
his presence. Sometimes he was sitting in a chair, 
and leaning very much forward. He appeared to 
be possessed of a sort of married look, which ex- 
pressed itself in a sort of general settling down of 
his body towards his boots. He seemed to be grad- 
ually passing from a solid to a gelatinous condition. 
His abstracted air, his lonely look, his general ap- 
pearance of " settling down," told the whole history 
of his experience. He had ventured in to make the 
third in the picture in the window. He had desired 
to supply its needed complement.. He had offered 
himself as the oak about which the clinging vines 
might twine. He had presented himself as the ele- 
ment of strength which only seemed lacking in the 
grouping behind the sashes. As a third, as a com- 
plement, as an oak, as an element of strength, he 
was evidently a failure. 



188 Army and Other Sketches. 

Some months rolled away, and, after a while, the 
abstracted, lonely face disappeared from the window. 
An interval occurred, and then there were some 
strips of crape hung on the door-knob. Somebody 
was evidently dead ; but the closed shutters gave no 
opportunity to discover who was missing. 

A week or so later, there was another picture at 
the window. It was composed of the same old fig- 
ures as the one which had been there long before. 
But this time, one was robed in deepest black, and I 
saw that she was a widow. 

My last observations in that direction revealed that 
the grouping at the window was still continued. 
This time, it was the same, only more effective than 
before. The frail, stricken form in black seemed 
the very impersonation of weakness. There was a 
suggestion, in every fold of the black robe, of a lone- 
liness that needed companionship ; a weakness that 
needed support ; a drooping that required the assist- 
ance of a strong arm. There was the same vine 
mutely appealing for something whereon to twine. 
There was the same picture, suggesting the lack only 
of masculine strength to secure its perfection. 

And then the two were so admirably arranged, — 
the one to contrast, to serve as a foil to, a suggestion 
for the other. The supreme weakness and woe 
revealed in the attitude and habiliments of the one, 
suggested the need of a companionship more vigor- 
ous, more strong, than were afforded by the other. 
Ever the expression of the unwidowed one appeared 
to be: "Come, strong arms, and aid me to sustain 
this pitiful woe which now leans against weak me, 
and overpowers my slender strength!" 

And thus the glimpses through the window re- 
vealed themselves; and thus the glimpses at the 



The Revelations of a Window. 189 

window may be revealing themselves at the very 
hour in which I write. The deft web-weavers may 
be still at their labors of stretching the woof of their 
enchantment across the sashes. The threads of the 
web may still shimmer in the sunlight, — may still 
reflect the rainbow in their coloring. 

There are just such windows all over the world, 
behind which are being woven just such webs. 
There are thousands of silly masculine flies which 
will become entangled in them, and, after a while, 
will be tumbled out, the mere skin of their former 
selves. Wherever there are artful women, and weak 
young men, there are such groupings, such pictures, 
such suggestions and invitations, and such results. 





A REVELATION OF CLAIRVOYANCE, 



HE writer hereof is a clairvoyant. He can 
see ahead of him, or behind him, when 
^ there is nothing to obstruct his vision. 

The other day, after a discussion with a 
young woman on progress, social science, nurs- 
ing babies, Anna Dickinson, woman's rights, 
and a few other matters, such as usually form the 
staple of chit-chat between a young woman and a 
young man, he fell into a reverie on the vast progress 
being made by men and women. From a reverie he 
passed into a clairvoyant condition, in which he 
saw many things. Here is what he saw: 

It was a century later than the great American 
rebellion. Social science had developed with enor- 
mous rapidity. Vast changes had occurred every- 
where, but chiefly in the relations of the sexes. In 
short, the conditions which existed in the nineteenth 
century had become exactly reversed in the case of 
men and women. The former had stopped growth ; 
the latter had progressed. At the exact moment 
when the writer, a fair-haired blond of twenty, ap- 
peared among these reverse social conditions, women 
and men had just exactly changed the positions 
which they formerly occupied. 

Woman had progressed to the ballot, and had con- 
tinued on until she had usurped the rights of govern- 
ing. As she seized upon the right, she had deprived 



A Revelation of Clairvoyance. . 191 

man of it, and had gradually forced him downward, 
and repressed him, until he was confined exclusively 
to the family. Man had grown timid and modest; 
woman bold and outspoken. She occupied the 
counting-rooms ; attended the saloons ; ran the 
billiard-rooms, edited the newspapers, filled the 
public offices, and thronged the hall of the Chamber 
of Commerce. He attended the boarding-schools; was 
the domestic in the kitchen; nursed and reared the 
children; filled the subordinate departments in the 
public schools; opened and owned millinery shops; 
danced in the ballet, and in short, felt and acted like 
the women of the century before. 

It was a pleasant summer day in July, 1971, that 
this story begins. The golden-haired blond of 
twenty who is writing this article found himself on 
that particular day in the city of Chicago. He 
seemed to know that he belonged to a previous age; 
but yet he seemed to belong to the period and the 
society of 1971. He lived at home with his parents. 
His father was a gentle, amiable man, who was pos- 
sessed of every quiet grace and accomplishment. 
His mother was likewise remarkable. He was for- 
tunate in his mother. She was a woman of wonder- 
ful vigor of body and intellect. She was a lawyer, 
and a rising woman of massive judgment, prodigi- 
ous energy, and untiring perseverance. She com- 
manded universal respect, and was in a fair way to 
be elevated to the bench. 

The golden-haired young hero of this tale found 
himself sitting upon the shaded verandah of a pala- 
tial house on an avenue on the West Side. Green 
vines clambered over the piazza, and fluttered trem- 
ulously, as touched by a cool breeze. Half con- 
cealed by these umbrageous vines sat our sweet 



192 Army and Other Sketches. 

young hero. Near him sat his gentle father, en- 
gaged in hemming a pocket handkerchief. Upon 
the lap of the son lay a book. Near him was a 
guitar. Through the open window was seen his 
piano, and attached to one of its legs a gold medal, 
and to another a cross of the Legion of Honor. It 
was a superb Chickering-Steinway, and had taken 
two prizes at the World's Fair. 

In the eyes of our sweet young hero was a dreamy, 
far-away look. His glance seemed to be turned up- 
on something immeasurably distant — some scene 
peopled with glorious visions. Anon,]a smile bright- 
ened upon his pouting, cherry lips. Suddenly his 
charming reverie was broken by the voice of his 
father. 

" My son," said the latter, " of what are you think- 
ing so intently?" 

A deep blush suffused the face of the golden- 
haired, and it was with downcast eyes and a trem- 
bling voice, which he vainly tried to render indiffer- 
ent, that he answered: 

"Oh, nothing, papa!" 

An arch smile stole over the kindly face of the 
father, as he noted these evidences of emotion. 

"Ah, my sweet child! you can not deceive your 
father. Come, now, confess: you were thinking of 
Barbara, the law student!" 

Carnation stole over his cheeks, and it was with 
downcast eyes and averted face that he replied: 

" Oh, papa! how can you?" 

A moment later, and the blushing youth had flung 
his arms about his father's neck, and his face was 
hidden in his father's bosom. The low-breathed con- 
fession then whispered in the father's ear by the 
clinging, kneeling son, is too sacred for revelation. 



A 'Revelation of Clairvoyance. 193 

Suffice it that it was. the confession of love's first 
young dream. The father heard it all, and then, 
pressing a kiss upon the brow of his clinging child, 
he whispered: 

" Have courage, my Jakie; all shall yet be well !" 

With one strong, almost convulsive embrace, the 
young boy released his hold, and fled with the speed 
of an antelope to the quiet of his room. The old 
gentleman gazed a moment at his retiring form, 
and then, brushing a tear from his eye, murmured: 

"Ah! sweet child! How like what I was once 
myself, in years agone !" 

It was night. The mother of our blond hero had 
returned from her legal labors. 

The family was gathered in the comfortable draw- 
ing room. The mother sat with her feet on the 
mantel, smoking a cigar, and perusing the twelfth 
evening edition of a Chicago paper. The father 
and son sat by the centre-table, engaged in em- 
broidery. 

" How does your suit succeed, my dear?" said the 
father, breaking a prolonged silence. 

"Oh, badly," said the head of the family, as she 
threw down the paper with a gesture of vexation. 
" You see," she continued, "the sympathies of juries 
now-a-days are all with a man. If he applies for 
divorce, or sues for breach of promise, a feminine 
jury will always give him their verdict. Times are 
not what they were." 

"Well, never mind," said the affectionate father. 
" Don't think of it. Read us the news in that de- 
lightful, moral and poetical family paper, the Sun- 
day Bulldozer." 

The mother complied. Taking up the newspaper, 
she read as follows: 



194 Army and Other Sketches. 

"Unusual Cruelty to a Husband.— Bridget Stapleton was 
yesterday morning, at the police court, fined $50, and required 
to give bonds of $500, to keep the peace toward her husband.. 
The latter testified that he had passed through a siege of abuse 
and cruelty, which had continued for nine years." 

"The Case of Alleged Rape. — Mary Ann Lind, the young 
woman accused of having committed a rape upon the person of 
Jeremiah Elliott, a deaf mute, was arraigned at the police court 
yesterday morning. No evidence was taken, and the case was 
continued until Friday, in bail of $1,000." 

"A Triple Sentence. — Delilah Guyton, a habitual drunkard, 
and chronic husband-whipper, was yesterday morning sentenced 
by Justice Sturtevant to pay a fine of $10, to be imprisoned 
in the bridewell ten days, and to give $200 bail to keep the 
peace." 

" Women are becoming sadly demoralized," said 
the mother of our golden-haired hero, as she folded 
up the paper. "Nothing now-a-days but husband- 
beating on the part of women, and applications for 
divorce on the part of suffering men. It is terrible ! 
something should be done to elevate man, and 
make him less dependent upon woman. By-the-way, 
my dear, you are one of the directors of the 
Erring Man's Refuge; how does that institution 
prosper?" 

" Not so well as we could wish," replied the father, 
with a sigh. " To be sure we are effecting some- 
thing; but prosti " 

A shriek from his son arrested the father's re- 
marks. Turning toward the golden-haired youth, 
he was seen to be in hysterics. 

" It was your remark, sir," ejaculated the mother 
sternly to the weeping father. " You do not seem 
to consider his sensitive nature. Why will you use 
such terms as pro—?" 



A Revelation of Clairvoyance, 195 

Another and a louder shriek from the son inter- 
rupted her remarks. Burnt feathers and hartshorn 
were applied, and in a little while the youth opened 
his beautiful blue eyes. 

" Where am I, father?" 

66 Here, darling, in your father's arms," said the 
latter, as he chafed the palid brow of his golden 
haired son. He was soon after removed, sobbing, 
but quieted, to his bed; and then, returning to the 
parlor, the parents resumed the conversation. 

"We can do but little," continued the father, as 
he took up his embroidery, " because our sex seem 
mad beyond remedy. For every fallen man that we 
take from the bagnio, there are a dozen who take his 
place. Abandoned men boldly walk the streets, 
haunt our places of amusement, and every where 
jostle decency and virtue. The love of display in 
men; their vanity; their confidence in women, — 
these are what lead men to ruin. I am sure I do 
not know where to look for the remedy." 

And thus for hours the conversation flowed apace. 

Another night passed, and another day came. It 
was towards sunset. The boulevards, avenues and 
promenades of Chicago were thronged with its mul- 
tifarious populations. Fair men and brave women 
crowded the thoroughfares, fanned by the breezes 
that fluttered inland after dipping their wings in the 
cool waters of the lake. • 

It was a motley crowd that flowed along the chan- 
nels of the city. Abandoned men, gorgeous in dress, 
bold in looks, and painted like tiger-lilies, thronged 
the streets. At the crossings, and gathered in knots 
here and there, were women, who expectorated to- 
bacco juice, puffed out volumes of cigar smoke, in- 



196 Army and Other Sketches. 

dulged in ribald conversation, and commented upon 
the faces and ankles of the passing gentlemen. 

Adown a principal thoroughfare came a beautiful, 
golden-haired young man, dressed with exquisite 
taste. His countenance seemed the home of purity 
and modesty. He saw the bold glances of the wo- 
men lounging at the street-corners, but he under- 
stood them not, save that they filled him with an 
indefinable terror and loathing. 

As his resplendent figure passed, men turned en- 
viously, and women admiringly, to notice him. 

At a distance, dogging his footsteps like sleuth- 
hounds, came two ill-favored, female ruffians. Ever 
at such a distance behind the golden-haired vision 
of loveliness, came the two. 

Twilight melted into night, and the beautiful young 
man seemed, suddenly to awake from a delicious 
reverie, and to become aware that night had fallen. 
Looking about him with a glance of terror, he saw 
that he was standing upon Rush street bridge. Be- 
yond him was the lake, and beneath him Chicago 
river. He turned to retrace his steps, when suddenly 
he felt himself clasped by rough, strong arms. A wild 
shriek for help rang out upon the startled air; and 
then he became enshrouded with blissful uncon- 
sciousness. 

" Look alive, Semantha!" said one of the ruffians; 
"that yell'll bring the perlice. Ef Mother Kennedy 
gets after us, we're a goner." 

So saying, they they lifted the inanimate form of 
the unconscious youth, and bore it rapidly towards 
a hack which had constantly followed them. 

At the moment that the ruffianly-looking female 
driver stood holding the door, and as the two she- 



A Revelation of Clairvoyance 197 

wretches were about to thrust in the pallid victim, 
there came an interruption. There was a rush of 
swift footsteps and, a moment later, a stalwart 
young woman, with eyes blazing with wrath, stood 
upon the scene. 

' ' Unhand him, scoundrels!" and, as she uttered 
this in thunder tones, she launched out from the 
shoulder with both hands, and the she-ruffians rolled 
in the dust. Lifting the inanimate body of the 
youth, she sprang into the carriage. 

"Now, woman, devil! drive us to my father's. 
You know me! Woe be on your accursed head if 
you do not obey." 

Cowed by her eye of fire, the driver climbed upon 
her seat, and drove rapidly away. 

" It is I, Jakie darling. Do you not know me?" 

Jakie unclosed his beautiful eyes. The glare of a 
passing street lamp flashed in the carriage window, 
and he saw that he was in the arms of his own 
Barbara ! 

We draw a veil over the scene that followed. Suf- 
fice it that, moved by gratitude for his escape, and 
the passionate appeals of Barbara, the beautiful 
youth consented to name the happy day. It was 
fixed for that day fortnight. The maternal blessing 
was given, and gorgeous preparations were made 
for the bridal. Time rolled away, and, on the morn- 
ing of the appointed day, the golden-haired young 
thing was arrayed in his bridal garments and sur- 
rounded by sympathetic bridesmen. 

A stately woman advanced, hands were clasped, 
and the solemn words uttered which united indisso- 
lubly the lives of this strong woman and this beau- 
tiful, virtuous man. 



198' 



Army and Other Sketches. 



The writer regrets being unable to state what fol- 
lowed, owing to his being recalled early the same 
evening from his clairvoyant condition. The last he 
remembers was being shown to the nuptial chamber 
by his benevolent father. 





A LEAP YEAR ROMANCE. 



H O'ST love me, sweet one?" 

The hot blood rushed tumultuously into 
my burning cheeks as I heard this impas- 
sioned inquiry. My long lashes involuntarily 
sank upon my cheeks. My heart drummed a 
fierce tattoo against my breast. My long, taper 
fingers worked convulsively with my watch- 
guard. My voice sank back into my throat, and my 
reply came like the low murmur of waters, as they 
flow modestly from the fountain-head into the garish 
light of day. And the reply? It was: 
"You bet!" 

She clasped me convulsively to her bosom. My 
head fell upon her shoulder. The next moment she 
tenderly lifted my averted face, and our lips met in 
a long, clinging kiss. 

This was on the evening of February 5. 1868, in a 
house on the West Side. I was just nineteen. Born 
in wedlock, I had already entertained a veneration 
for that institution. 

I was just nineteen. My soul was pervaded with 
new and bewitching sensations. Mysterious, and 
yet delicious, flushes wandered through my being, 
coming and going I knew not whither. They were 
like aromatic breezes in search of flowers to breathe 
upon, and finding them not. These flowers which 



200 Army and Other Sketches. 

my soul lacked were the young buds of passion, — 
of love. The germs — both plumule and radical — 
were there, but undeveloped. Hence, nothing for 
the mysterious breezes to breathe upon, — to dally 
with, — to caress. 

But, on that evening, these germs suddenly ex- 
panded. They budded into modest tenderness, and 
then blossomed. 

She who spoke to me — whose magic awoke these 
sleeping forms, and covered my whole interior life 
with young and gorgeous blossoms — was a lady of 
twenty-one summers. She was a magnificent crea- 
ture. Her luxurious chestnut hair was ruffled in 
front like a wave touched by a disturbing breeze. A 
magnificent water-fall rose from, and intensified the 
expression of, her organ of philoprogenitiveness. 
Her eyes were dark as night, and seemed to float in 
a humid tenderness. Her teeth were diaphanous 
pearls. Her mouth was wide, with voluptuous lips 
that unfolded like a scarlet revelation. They were 
lips as suggestive of what was within as is the red 
flag of the auctioneer. 

Her shoulders were of an exquisite roundness. 
They were like ivory injected with rich, red blood. 
Her white bosom rose and fell, not with the angular 
regularity of a pair of bellows, but with graceful 
and wave-like undulations. Her slender waist might 

be clasped with one's interlocked fingers. Her , 

but I forbear, lest I become tedious. 

We sat side by side on the sofa. Her arm had 
stolen about my waist, and had drawn me close — 
very close — to her. Her other hand wandered, like 
an ethereal and shapely materiality, caressingly 
through my young moustache. My head reclined 
upon her marble shoulder; my nostrils drank in an 



A Leap Year Romance. 201 

almost imperceptible, but intoxicating perfume, that 
emanated from the warm pillow of alabaster. My 
senses were rocked with the undulations of the 
bosom. The perfume bewildered; the almost im- 
palpable motion lulled; the touch of her fingers gave 
forth electric discharges that thrilled through my 
sensuous centres with a result that was half scorch- 
ing and half ecstatic. I seemed sinking into an 
abyss, which yet, while an abyss, was pervaded 
with delicious intoxication. I did not appear to be 
falling, but rather, as it were, floating gently down 
toward something, I knew not what, and which 
half -invited and half -terrified me. 

But suddenly something seemed to call me to my- 
self, — to life, — to reality. With a superhuman effort 
I lifted myself from out the abyss into which I was 
was falling, — falling. I lifted myself up, as a man 
who, standing in a basket, should, to escape some 
deadly peril, suddenly put forth a giant's strength, 
and lift himself over a protecting wall. 

I came back to life from some nameless terror, 
whose outlines I saw beyond me. I saw but out- 
lines. What menaced me I knew not. 

Raising my eyes suddenly to hers, I saw that their 
blaze was toned down with an ineffable tenderness. 
The richest of carnation glowed all over her -cheeks 
and bosom. I was seized with a nameless terror. 

Bidding my wildly-throbbing heart be still, I sum- 
moned steadiness to my voice, and said: 

" Now that you have wrung a confession of love 
from my lips, when will you marry me?" 

The soft light rolled away from her eyes, as mists 
disappear from the face of the sun. The blood fled 
from her cheeks. Her eyes dropped confusedly. 

".Marry — you?" she stammered. 



£02 Army and Other Sketches. 

"Yes, my own, marry me. Let us, in this mo- 
ment of bliss, name the happy day, as men who 
slightly drunken with strong tea, agree upon a time 
when they shall meet for an intoxication upon the 
fiery wines of France." 

"Nay, but, love," she said, "let us not now dis- 
cuss this. To-morrow, or next week, we will ar- 
range definitely our future. Let us not, with base 
dates, derange the spell of love's first, young dream. 
What is time to us? " 

"Miss," I replied, "this minute, — this fractional 
portion of the present second! Not to-morrow for 
me!" 

"Ah, you distrust me!" she exclaimed in a re- 
proachful voice. 

"Not distrust," I said, "but — safety." 

"You have no confidence in me, my love! Be- 
lieve in me, — confide in me, — trust me! Let us 
defer what you speak of till another meeting." 

Suddenly I tore myself from her grasp, and sprang 
into the centre of the room. All the dark perfidy of 
the woman rose before me ; her sinister intentions 
flashed over me, like a revelation come by light- 
ning. 

"Fiend! monster!" I exclaimed, as I menaced her 
with uplifted finger, — "I know you! Begone from 
this abode of purity! Such as you have no place 
here ! Avaunt ! Quit my sight, ere I call upon 
heaven's thunderbolts to annihilate you in the midst 
of your wicked purpose ! " 

Paralyzed by my vehemence, she arose, and, with- 
out one look or word of farewell, left the house. I 
stood erect and flashing with haughty anger, till she 
had disappeared, and then I sank helpless and 
senseless to the floor. 



A Leap Year Romance. 203 

It was hours before I recovered consciousness. 
Since that hour, I have been weak and stricken, but, 
nevertheless, grateful, like one who has faced, and 
then escaped, a deadly peril. 

I write this for the benefit of my brethren. This 
year is one that menaces us with mortal wrongs. 
Only those who are warned may escape. Even 
those who are warned will need far more than ordi- 
nary resolution to secure their safety. 

Ah! my brethren, let us be vigilant. For twelve 
months will we be exposed to the attacks of a foe, 
than which there is none more subtle, seductive, and 
dangerous. Let each man who listens to my words 
take warning, and prepare himself for a struggle 
whose issues involve more than death. 





THE HORRORS OF MASONRY* 

a* 

HE noble enterprising, and moral Christians 

who met in Chicago for the purpose of kick- 

|pn^ ing over Masonry, have my profound sym- 
pathies. Why I thus sympathize with their 
efforts, I shall proceed to relate. 

Out in a smiling little railway town there 
can be seen, to-day, the remnants of a man. He 
now, in his reduced condition, weighs only 220. Had 
not there happened to him the fearful event which 
I am about to narrate, he might now weigh as much 
as a ton, or as the editress of The Agitator. 

It was two years ago that this citizen became pos- 
sessed with the righteous idea that Masonry is a 
blight, a wilt, a blast. After carefully examining 
the matter, he felt himself called upon to undertake 
a crusade against the afflicting organization. After 
consulting with several of his friends, he concluded 
to join the order, get its secrets, and then annihilate 
it by revealing them. 

Bidding a tearful farewell to his loving wife, and 
clasping her in a fond, it might be a last, embrace, 
he started on his pilgrimage. 

Going boldly to a lodge-room, he knocked loudly 
at the door, and was bidden to enter. He went in. 

At that precise moment, the air was rent, and the 
earth shaken by a terrific burst of thunder. His 
knees smote together, as this menacing roar tore 



The Horrors of Masonry, 205 

through his ear; but he pressed forward, nerved by 
a high sense of duty. 

It was noon of the following day. The single 
street of the little village was lined with anxious 
faces. Every man, woman and child had turned 
out to discuss the fate of him who had gone the night 
before to discover and reveal the secrets of Masonry. 
His frenzied wife, clasping an infant in either arm, 
tearing her disheveled hair with her hands, ran 
hither and thither, like a maniac, in search of her 
loved and lost. 

Since the time of his departure, he had not been 
seen or heard of. It was believed that he had fallen 
a victim to the fury of the conspirators whom he 
had undertaken to expose. 

Gradually the women, and the children, and the 
men, gathered in front of the gloomy pile which was 
believed to contain the penetralia in which met the 
dread Masonic order. With upturned faces, and 
anxious hearts, they gazed at its closed shutters, 
each of which seemed the repository of some awful 
secret. 

Suddenly the front doors opened, and then, pro- 
pelled by a tremendous kick, there shot into the 
street a horrid form! 

It was that of the lost husband; but, oh! how 
changed! He was neither naked nor clad, for upon 
his left foot was a slipper; upon his right, a stock- 
ing; around his neck, a noose with a dangling cord! 

He came down the steps at a headlong pace. His 
eyes were bloodshot, and were lighted with a glance 
of mortal terror. As he reached the sidewalk he 
recovered himself, and looked wildly around. 

Thus he stood for five minutes, and then a woman 



206 Army and Other Sketches. 

covered her face with her apron, and the other 
women, a few minutes later, followed her example. 

Then he gave a demoniacal yell, and charged 
through the crowd. Up the street he tore like a 
maddened bull, yelling at every jump, as though 
punched with a red-hot iron. 

The entire population started in pursuit. He kept 
on for three days, and then run himself into the 
ground, and was captured. He was found to be an 
idiot. He asserted that his name was Solomon 
Abiff, and he wanted an acacia set out in his ear. 

To-day this victim of Masonic cruelty wanders 
about, aimless and hopeless. He often mistakes 
some body else's wife for his own, and can not rec- 
ognize his own children. He is a melancholy wreck, 
and his friends have determined, as a last resort, to 
secure him a consulship to some foreign nation. 

Does not this affecting incident prove the nefari- 
ous character of Masonry, beyond all dispute? 

Some years ago I knew of a most foul murder 
being committed. A Mason was arrested for the 
crime. He was not convicted. 

It was proved that he was 500 miles away at the 
time, and that the murdered man was killed by some 
body else. But what of that? Who doubts that he 
escaped because he was a Mason? 

I know another case which shows the devilish dis- 
position of Masons. A prominent married man 
applied to a friend whom he supposed to be a 
Mason, for the degrees. The latter got together six 
others, and organized a plan to receive the appli- 
cant. 

The latter was received on the night in question, 
in the" lodge" room. Blue lights burned, and sol- 






The Horrors of Masonry. 207 

emn gongs roared, while the seven conspirators 
groaned portentously in chorus. 

And then the applicant was blindfolded and led 
over one turned-up table, across twelve inverted 
chairs, tripped over seven extended legs, soused in 
four tubs of water, slid down one soaped board, 
against the grain, and was then brought up to be 
examined. 

Sworn on an authenticated copy of Munchausen, 
to tell the truth, he was interrogated by the G. R. J. , 
who was the village physician. 

" Confess," said the latter, il all your sins. If there 
be one crime on your conscience, you must reveal it. 
On your honor, on your solemn oath, have you ever 
done aught to wrong the marital relations of any 
citizen of this village?" 

"Must I answer this question? " said the shrinking 
candidate. 

"You must, would you ever pass beneath the 
Royal Arch," solemnly responded Dr. R. " Answer, 
now, upon your fearful oath." 

"No one, then, except — except — in the case of — 
Doctor R. ! " reluctantly confessed the candidate. 

Suddenly Dr. R. launched out his right hand, and 
"handed" the candidate "one" on his smeller. 
Then the latter tore off his bandage, and, being 
game, he responded with his left. Then the two 
clinched, and fought all over the one table and 
twelve chairs; four times up and down the soaped 
board, and in and out every tub of water, for four 
hours and thirty-eight minutes. Both were licked 
so badly that they had to be carried home on 
blankets. 

A suit for divorce followed, and Dr. R. and Mrs. 
R. took separate lodgings, 



208 Army and Other Sketches. 

This heart-rending occurrence exemplifies, further, 
the atrocious character of Masonry. It is seen that 
Masonry is a convenient garb in which men not 
Masons may perpetrate inhumanities and nameless 
crimes. I charge upon Masonry the breaking up of 
the happy family of Dr. P. , by separating him from 
a wife, who loved wisely, and two well. 

As a further proof of the infamous character of 
these Morgan-killers, I will expose some of their 
orgies which occurred at Haas's Park, near the city 
of Chicago. 

St. John's day is observed by those people who 
killed Morgan. Morgan is a man who was killed in 
time to carry an election. His initials are G. E. , — 
Good Enough Morgan. 

The men who killed Morgan had red plumes in 
their hats, at Haas's Park, which indicated their 
bloody character. They also had swords. They 
are the same kind of swords with which G. E. 
Morgan was slaughtered. They also carried several 
immense poles, which are pointed at one end. These 
poles are employed for the purpose of marking spots 
to be used for the graves of those whom the order 
slaughters. 

A good many of the men had engravings of skulls 
on their breasts. These are accurate likenesses of 
the skulls of men who have been murdered by the 
Masons. When a Mason has killed three men he is 
entitled to wear a likeness of his victims' heads, 
and to take the degree known as Golgotha. 

This is the true explanation of these skull badges. 
Of course the Masons do not own it. They pre- 
tended that they wore these skulls on account of the 
wet weather. They said a flood might come up, 



The Horrors of Masonry. 209 

and they wanted to be ready to skull themselves to 
dry land. 

Each of them had the number 32 among his en- 
signa. This is the number that each of them is 
sworn to kill. 

The Masonic performances at Haas's Park were 
of a sinister character. How many men and women 
were slaughtered during the orgies of the day, and 
buried among the shadows, no one, unless a member 
of the anti-Masonic societies will ever know. One 
man not a Mason was discovered among the crowd. 
An hour later, he was found lying on his back be- 
hind a tent. He was dead, yes, dead— drunk. 

Some of the ceremonies of the saturnalia were hor- 
rifying. One Druidical looking Mason, with a 
long, gray beard, and lurid spectacles, read some- 
thing from a roll of manuscript. As he did so he was 
surrounded by an auditory that occupied itself with 
weird and fantastic ceremonials. His words seemed 
to fill them with a strange power. Unearthly sounds 
filled the building, in which one could distinguish 
gurgliDgs like that of blood from gashed throats, or 
the flow of champagne from bottles. The air was 
filled with whizzing pellets the size of corks. Bursts 
of demoniacal laughter tore through the din. The 
further the speaker with the lurid spectacles pro- 
ceeded, the louder grew the clamor. 

It was a fine address — probably. It was a cere- 
monial said to be illustrative of the condition of the 
Masons who built the tower of Babel. 

Some of the Masonic rites are peculiar. As every 
thing about the craft has some mathematical con- 
nection, the triangle, the square, the pentagon, etc., 
were symbolized. The circle was represented by 
six small rings about the size of a silver dollar. A 



210 Army and Other Sketches. 

Masonic candidate would take these six rings and 
attempt to throw them, one at a time, over spikes 
driven in a board. To take one of these degrees 
cost twenty-five cents. If the candidate threw one 
of the rings around one of the spikes, he was ad- 
judged worthy and well qualified. 

Another degree, which was conferred upon a good 
many, was one in which the candidates stood' in 
rows, and poured an amber-colored fluid, with a 
creamy surface, into their opened mouths. These 
degrees cost five cents each. One man took forty- 
two of these during the afternoon. He was then 
the highest Mason on the ground, except a ther- 
mometer. There was a thermometer on the ground 
that had reached the 85th degree. 

Every once in a while would be heard a loud ex- 
clamation. It came from somebody who was being 
murdered. In several cases of which I was a wit- 
ness, these fell victims of Masonic vengeance were 
outsiders, who were disposed of by being shot in the 
neck. 

Lovely women were there, who mingled with the 
descendants of men who killed Morgan as freely as 
if they had been pious members of the Young Men's 
Christian Association. A woman is a mystery. Her 
liking for Masonry can only be explained on the 
ground that it is composed exclusively of men.. In 
loving Masonry, she is engaged in a sort of whole- 
sale business of the affections. 

The sexton of the order is a man named Berry. 
He has charge of the Berry-al services. It has its 
Bailey, which will hold more than any other insti- 
tution of the kind in existence. 

And all this time the killing was going on about 
the encampment. Just how many were slaughtered 



The Horrors of Masonry. 211 

will not be known with certainty until the next 
meeting of the anti-Masonic Convention. 

Mrs. Liyermore is not a member. She stated in a 
late speech that when she was born she turned her 
face to the wall and wept because she was a girl, 
and was, therefore, forever debarred from being a 
Mason and obtaining her rites. 

There were several cases of missing men, which 
shows the true character of Masonry. One woman 
missed her husband. They had been long married, 
and she had learned to like him. And now he was 
gone. She commenced a frantic search. She found 
him in a tent, conversing in low, impassioned tones 
with a woman younger and better looking than her- 
self. Her heart was broken at the sight! Such are 
the doings of Masonry! 

They had what was called an encampment. A 
Mason in camp meant one who was engaged in 
something horrible, as can be proved by the pro- 
ceedings of the anti-secret national convention. The 
latter had some camps. These scamps at Farwell 
Hall differed from those camps at Haas's Park. 

Toward night, when the Masons grew tired of 
slaughter, they simply selected their victims, and 
left them bound. I saw scores of them bound— for 
home. It was a thrilling spectacle. One's heart 
bled as he contemplated their woe-begone faces. 

There were two Masons there who seemed to ap- 
preciate the true character of the order to which 
they belong. Their names are W. A. Stevens and 
J. Ward Ellis, dentists. Both of them are in the 
habit of looking down in the mouth. 

Enough has been said, in this article, to show up 
the true character of Masonry. Their orgies, at 



212 Army and Other Sketches, 

Haas's Park, among the trees, show their treas- 
onable nature. The number of knights among them 
prove the darkness of their proceedings. Unless 
everybody wishes to be Morganized, they should be 
suppressed. 






A DREAM, AND HOW IT WAS FUL- 
FILLED. 



Mb 



| N the fall of 1862 I was suddenly called from 
home by pressing business. The affair ne- 



^s 



cessitated a journey of several hours by 
rail, and then the crossing of some fifty miles 
J$* of country on horseback. I calculated to reach 
the railroad terminus on the night of the day 
upon which I left home. Procuring a horse, I pro- 
posed to leave the terminus early the next morning, 
and to gain the end of my journey some time during 
the earlier portion of the following night. My busi- 
ness would consume two days, and I should return 
in two more; and hence my absence would be in- 
cluded within a week. 

The place at which I was living was a large city 
in one of the Southern States, and the few miles of 
railroad were the beginning of a line which, when 
completed, would cross the State. The point to 
which the road was completed was a town of some 
three hundred inhabitants; and here resided a dis- 
tant relative of my wife. I had been married only 
a week when the necessity which called me across 
the State made its appearance. 

Very naturally, my wife objected to the journey; 
but, as it was imperative, — involving many con- 
siderable interests, — I could not yield, however 
gladly I would have done so, to her request. It 



214 Army and Other Sketches. 

then occurred to her that she might accompany me 
to the terminus of the road, and there, with her rela- 
tive, await my return. My desire for her society, 
and also to gratify her, overcame some objections 
which suggested themselves when I thought that 
the place at which she would have to stay was but 
poorly supplied with comforts, or even ordinary 
conveniences. I hinted at the existence of these 
probable discomforts; but it was of no avail. 

"That may all be," said she; "but they will not 
last long; and, besides, I think them a very cheap 
price to pay for the pleasure, of your society to T. 
and return. 

Women, with the dew of girlhood yet fresh on 
their lips, and sparkling in the sheen of their eyes, 
possess irresistible argumentative powers, al- 
though, mayhap, they have never heard of Whately. 

Of course, I consented; and, at a little before dusk 
that same day, we found ourselves dismounting from 
the train at T. I found, without difficulty, the resi- 
dence of my wife's relative; and, in the course of 
half an hour, we were under his roof. 

The residence of my wife's relative — whom I will 
call Hermance — was situated about three-fourths of 
a mile from the outskirts of the town. It was a 
farm-house of the better-class, and was surrounded 
by the usual negro-cabins and out-houses. 

At that time, the war was in progress; and the 
country about Hermance's was liable to be visited 
by roaming bands belonging to both sides. My 
friend had never taken an active part in politics; 
and, being supposed to be quiet, conservative and 
inoffensive, he had the good will of both the bellig- 
erents, and, in consequence, was rarely disturbed by 
either. The most that had hitherto happened to 



A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 215 

him was the taking of a horse, or the slaughter of 
some of his hogs; but even these depredations were 
not authorized, and were committed against the 
orders of, or were unknown to, responsible parties. 

Just at that time, rumors reached the place that a 
one-armed guerrilla, noted for his brutality and dis- 
regard of all right, was, with a small force, ravag- 
ing the country, some seventy miles distant. But 
he had hitherto confined his operations to the lower 
portion of the State, and it was not expected that 
he would venture so far north as T. His perform- 
ances were, therefore, discussed simply as a portion 
of the current news of the day, and not with any 
view to his probable appearance in that neighbor- 
hood. 

The unsettled state of the country disquieted me 
somewhat; and I, therefore, urged upon my wife to 
return to the city in the morning train. She refused, 
and was the more obstinate in her refusal for the 
reason that Hermance and his family were emphatic 
in pooh-poohing the idea that the slightest danger 
was to be incurred by her remaining. 

"And then, only think," said my wife, "of the 
long journey to town, all alone. Besides, I want 
some fresh air; and then, by staying here, I shall 
see you ever so many hours sooner." 

There is no particular use of reasoning during the 
honeymoon; logic is an after-growth; and, conse- 
quently, I soon found myself under the necessity of 
yielding. I gave a reluctant and foreboding consent; 
and the next morning, at daylight, upon one of Her- 
mance's unequaled horses, I was cantering up the 
valley-road that led to my destination. 

It is not necessary to describe the details of my 
ride, further than to say that the weather was 



216 Army and Other Sketches. 

superb and bracing, the roads dry, hard and excel- 
lent. Just before sundown, I drew rein at a dilapi- 
dated " hotel" of a half -ruined country town named 

R , w T hich was the place to which my business 

called me. Two or three times during the day, I 
met country people, and, in our exchange of news, I 
had been told that " One- Armed Johnson," as he 
was termed, was moving northward. At each time 
that this rumor was mentioned, it was accompanied 
with an account of some fiendish atrocity said to 
have been committed by this ferocious leader. 
It was said that he had shot down this one in 
cold blood in the midst of his family; and that, 
in another case, the wife and daughter of some 
other had been given over to the brutal lusts of 
the gang, in the very presence of husband and 
brothers. 

These things did not have much effect upon me 
until I had retired to my bed at night. During the 
day, the swift rush of the air, and the constant ac- 
cession of new subjects,— of trees draped in all the 
variegated glories of autumn; of flocks of wild tur- 
keys crossing the road before me; of an occasional 
deer bounding away in the depths of some wood, — 
all these had distracted my attention, and left me 
little opportunity of pondering upon the information 
I had received. 

But, with this silence of night, my mind had full 
scope for the examination of the intelligence which 
I had received. As report had it, Johnson was 
marching directly towards T. ; and, as he was only 
some seventy miles distant three days before, it 
began to seem to my excited imagination that, if he 
continued northward, he would, within a very short 



A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 217 

time, reach the neighborhood in which I had left my 
wife. 

Disagreeable as were these reflections, I could 
console myself only with the idea that I could not, 
at the instant, do any thing to prevent what might 
occur. Much troubled, but hoping for the best, I 
finally, and, with many starts and wakings, fell into 
a profound sleep. 

How long I slept before my thoughts began to 
take shape and form themselves into regular pro- 
cesses, I can not remember. The most I can recall 
with reference to this portion of the night is, that I 
fell asleep after a long time; and then there ensued 
an oblivion which surrounded me, as it were, by a 
great waste of darkness. 

When my recollection grasps what first occurred, 
I seemed to be some where in the midst of a chaos, 
of which I was the only living figure. I was 
upon a vast plain, like that which would remain 
were the sun blotted out, were vegetation to die, and 
were all motion and life struck from existence. A 
great darkness lay upon everything, through which 
I could peer for a short distance, but in which I could 
only discover vast rocks, with precipitous sides and 
innumerable points. Among these rocks there were 
no paths, no voices, — nothing but a silence, which 
was awful in its extent. 

How long I wandered here I can not tell. I 
seemed to have no definite aim; but it appeared as 
if I sought something whose character I did not 
know. This something was to be gotten only by 
moving forward; and thus I continued to wander 
for a length of time, which appeared that of a 
lifetime. For all these years I groped amidst this 
darkness, — clambering over and around the ever- 



218 Army and Other Sketches. 

lasting rocks, — and meeting always with only the 
profound silence and the interminable gloom. My 
companions were the unyielding rocks, the obscurity 
and the silence. I would attempt to cry out at 
times; but my voice seemed frozen. It was as 
noiseless as a stream locked in the embraces of win- 
ter. 

After what was a century of, wandering amidst 
the solitude, the pointed rocks, and the darkness, 
there came a period which possessed motion, but no 
life. Truncated cones, with their smaller ends 
touching the earth, and their bases high in air, and 
inclined a little from the perpendicular, seemed to 
revolve with enormous rapidity. Beside these, there 
were immense globes, and they spun about their 
centres with infinite swiftness. Both were the color 
of burnished silver; both were stationary, save in 
their revolutions about their own centres. Noise- 
lessly, but with a dizzying swiftness, their bodies 
revolved. There was still no life,— only these forms 
and their revolutions. There was no seeming cause 
for their motion. They spun like the balance-wheel 
of a machine after the power has been removed. 

To the world of my dreams there were now added 
light and motion. It needed yet life for its comple- 
tion. 

In the new phase of my dream, to which there had 
come light and motion, I appeared to have no im- 
portant part. I moved among the whirling cones and 
spheres as if they had been non-resistant. When I 
ran against one of them, it seemed to enter my form 
as if I had been simple air; and, while one was thus 
against me, or partly within me, its motion kept up 
continuously, and I experienced a peculiar feeling, 
as if that portion of my form, or body, within the 



A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 219 

reach of the whirling object, had become a part of 
it, and as if it had partaken of the motion. 

This light and this motion gave me no impression, 
save a dim premonition that they indicated the swift 
approach of some terrible catastrophe. 

Motion and light had been added to the original 
chaos of my dream. Suddenly there came Life. 

A transition, so rapid that it left me no time to 
note the details of how the one , disappeared and the 
other came, suddenly occurred. In an instant the 
revolving cones and spheres gave place to a wooded 
road winding down the valley of a shallow stream. 
I recognized it as the road along which I had trav- 
eled the morning previous. At "the same instant, 
there came the resonant clatter of hoofs; and, a mo- 
ment after, a party of horsemen, on a swift gallop, 
emerged from the forest, and moved in the direction 
of the settlement I had left in the morning. 

They were a rough, ferocious crowd. They were 
dressed in almost every conceivable manner, from 
blue to gray, and including the rough homespun 
dress of the farmer. All had guns lying across their 
thighs at the pommels of their saddles. Some had 
sabres, whose steel scabbards gave forth a metallic 
rattle as they bounded from the flanks of the horses. 
Nearly all had revolvers strapped to their waists; 
and a few carried enormous knives, not unlike 
rudely-constructed swords. 

At their head rode a man of vast stature and pro- 
digious breadth of shoulders. His black hair hung 
in long and tangled masses below the collar of his 
gray coat. He wore a slouch hat with an immense 
brim, which, turned up above his eyes, gave him a 
singularly wild, reckless appearance. His beard 
was of great luxuriance, and hung down till its ends 



220 Army and Other Sketches. 

mingled with the tossing mane of his fiery horse. 
His left arm had been taken off between the elbow 
and the shoulder. With his right hand he managed 
the motion of his horse, and seemed to guide it rather 
by volition than by the touch of the reins. 

I recognized " One- Armed Johnson/' and his 
band of guerrillas. 

It required but a second to notice all these details. 
I had barely taken them in when the cavalcade 
emerged from a gorge formed by the narrowing of 
the valley. At this point, the road crossed the 
stream, and ran at right angles across the sloping 
valley up to the height upon which was situated the 
house of my friend Hermance. 

Plunging into the stream, the party sent the water 
flying in wild confusion, and then they cantered up 
the slope. I appeared to be standing at the exact 
point where the valley suddenedly widened out from 
the gorge. The sloping ascent of the road, the 
farm-house, in unsuspicious security, the party of 
brigands were all before me as if upon a map. I 
divined their purpose; and I made the most fran- 
tic efforts to advance in the direction of the house. 
I could not move an inch. An invisible, but im- 
penetrable, wall seemed to bar my progress; and I 
dashed myself against it vainly, but with frenzied 
desperation. I essayed to call out; but my voice 
seemed to reach only to my lips. 

All the time I saw the party of horsemen advanc- 
ing. When about half way up the slope they sud- 
denly, at a word of command from their leader, 
formed abreast, in two lines, on his right, facing to- 
ward the house. A moment after, some dozen or 
fifteen moved in advance of the rest. They daployed 
like a line of skirmishers; and, while the centre 



A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 221 

moved forward slowly, the right and left flanks ad- 
vanced rapidly, till the line resembled a long cres- 
cent. This line moved forward, and closed about 
the building, entirely surrounding it; and, an instant 
after, the leader and the main body, at a swift gallop, 
dashed on the green in front of the house. 

There was a moment's parley; and then a long 
puff of white smoke, with a thin body of flame, 
poured from one of the windows, and, almost simul- 
taneously, a riderless horse detached itself from the 
struggling mass, and, with a snort of terror, galloped 
up the road, and, with swinging stirrups, disap- 
peared over the brow. 

What followed passed with the rapidity of light- 
ning. There were fierce flashes, puffs of smoke, the 
thud of bullets, and the sound of breaking glass. 
Then a blue smoke rolled up from the further side 
of the house, which soon became darker, and was 
mixed with great gushes of flame. I saw that the 
house was fired. The flames burst from a window, 
then ran in spirals under the eaves, and then 
crawled, like slender serpents, over the roof. A lit- 
tle later, and the roof was a volcano, which seemed 
to vomit flame, smoke, and cinders, which shot to 
an immense height, and then fell outward, as if the 
whole were a fountain bursting upward with irre- 
sistible power. 

Just before the flames enveloped the whole struct- 
ure, I saw a female figure rush wildly to an upper 
window, and then recoil as if appalled by the hell 
of flames which roared around and beneath her. It 
was my wife! I saw her turn away with a wild, de- 
spairing look, and an imploring gesture; and then 
the flame and smoke enshrouded the window, and I 
saw her no more. 



222 Army and Other Sketches. 

I made one more tremendous effort to rush to her 
assistance. The invisible barrier seemed to give 
way before me, and I plunged madly forward; but, 
at the very first bound, infinite depth suddenly 
yawned beneath me, and I felt myself falling into 
space— down, down, with terrible velocity, like a 
cannon-ball dropped from the clouds; and then, as I 
seemed about to be crushed to fragments against 
the bottom of the abyss, a strong, yielding medium 
appeared to receive me, to break the force of my de- 
scent; and then I awoke. 

Day was just dimly breaking. A few weak rays 
of grayish light entered my room, and gave to its 
contents a ghastly visibility. The horrors of my 
dream were fresh upon me; and, impelled by an in- 
definable terror, I had but one thought — that of 
reaching T. Dressing myself, I hurried forth to the 
stable; and, throwing a few ears of corn before my 
horse, I waited with feverish impatience through 
the age which was consumed by the animal in eat- 
ing. I could not eat; and I only waited till the corn 
had disappeared to take my departure. Without 
disturbing any of the household, I led out my horse, 
threw ^myself in the saddle, and spurred savagely 
on my return. 

I devoured the space which separated me from T. 
with a fevered body and a soul constantly racked by 
the horrors of my dream. My mind's eye saw con- 
stantly the figure in the window, stretching appeal- 
ingly its white arms for aid. My imagination fol- 
lowed it within the shroud of fire and smoke, and 
saw it rushing hither and thither, and at length fall- 
ing, suffocated by the pitiless flames. I saw con- 
stantly the shuddering, writhing form, and my ears 
rang with its shrieks of anguish, 






A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 223 

It was scarcely more than four hours — as I after- 
ward learned — from the time that I started, that I 
found myself entering the gorge at whose termina- 
tion was visible the residence of Hermance. I recog- 
nized the features of the stream, the banks, and the 
narrowing valley, exactly as they appeared in my 
dream the night before. In another moment I should 
have before me the blackened ruins of the farm- 
house and my soul reeled as I anticipated the first 
view of the desolation, and the subsequent revela- 
tions of its horrors. The road was filled with hoof- 
marks, and the water still lay on the stones and 
sand where it had been splashed by the passing ani- 
mals. The next instant, dashing across the stream, 
I rounded the abutment of the gorge, and, with a 
shudder of apprehension, turned my eyes to the rise 
beyond me. 

It was a beautiful September day. The air was 
pure as crystal, save where delicate forms of smoke 
drifted along or reclined upon the horizon. Beyond 
a peach orchard lay the brown farm-house, and 
around it clusters of negro cottages. From its chim- 
ney there curled, peacefully and lazily, a light-blue 
smoke. Some negro children and dogs gamboled 
among the trees. Quiet, peace, beauty, reigned 
over the scene, 

There were no smoking ruins — no desolation. The 
farm-house with its patriarchal and sylvan surround- 
ings, slept as peacefully under the autumn sunlight 
as if it had been located among the Isles of the 
Blessed. 

It would be tedious to relate the surprise occa- 
sioned by my appearance; my explanations, and the 
chagrin of my friend over the ruin of his blooded 
saddle-horse, I will merely state in this connection. 



224 Army and Other Sketches. 

that there had been no alarm from any source since 
my departure. 

I have only to add that, two or three days later, 
among some captures made during a cavalry expedi- 
tion, was that of this same one-armed guerrilla and 
several of his companions. He was brought to the 
city, and, inspired by curiosity, I resolved to see this 
terrible bandit. I readily obtained admission to a 
position where I could see him as he traversed the 
corridor of the prison. 

To my intense surprise, I found before me the fac 
simile of my dream. There were the same long, 
unkempt locks, falling over the collar of the gray 
coat; the same enormous beard, stalwart form, 
broad shoulders, and arm missing between elbow 
and body. 

I entered into conversation with him; and he was 
garrulous and boastful in relating what he had done, 
and what he had designed doing. Among other 
things, he said: 

" I had a nice thing on hand a day or two before 
I was picked up. I had heard that there was a pay- 
master at T. , and I intended to go for him. The 
night before I intended to take the town, I was in 
camp at R. In the morning, I found that a fellow 
in the Government service, who had just come from 
T., and who had staid all night at R, had left be- 
fore daylight and gone back to T. I suppose he had 
found out some how that I was around, and what I 
meant, and had gone back to head me off. Any- 
how, I thought I wouldn't go that time. 

"You are acquainted at T., are you? Well, if 
you know a man there by the name of Hermance, 
just give him my compliments, and tell him, if I 
ever get out of this, I want some of his horses. He's 



A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 225 

got some of the best stock this side of h — 11. And 
tell him, too, that when I come after his horses, I'll 
just take his scalp, for I've heard that he's been 
playing double. I meant, when I went for the 
paymaster at T., to give Hermance a call; but the 
thing will keep, and I'll drop on him some other 
time." 




GETTING A DRINK UNDER DIFFICUL- 
TIES. 




feAKEherup!" 
£ " I'm alone!" 
"Pass!" 

Yes, 'pass;' that's the word. Just pass 
that pocket ordnance, will you?" 
I was the last speaker. My vis-a-vis on the 
car seat laid down his 'lone hand — both bowers, 
queen, and seven-spot— reaching into the breast- 
pocket of his overcoat, and hauled out a big-bellied 
pocket-pistol. Unscrewing the metal cap, I inhaled 
the delicious aroma of some S. O. P. After giving 
the sense of smell an opportunity, as it were, to 
take a drink, I applied one end of the flask to my 
mouth, and slowly elevated the other. 

A thin stream of the electric nectar had began to 
crawl lazily throatward over my tongue; the thril- 
ling intelligence of a coming drink had just begun 
to be telegraphed from the nerves of the mouth to 
other portions of the system; stomach, brain, ex- 
tremities, were beginning to thrill with anticipated 
bliss over the expected libation — when 

I regret, even at this distant moment, to say that 
I never took that drink. 

Raising my eyes with somewhat of that instinct- 
ive thankfulness which animates a chicken when it 



Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 227 

takes a sip of cooling water, I happened to glance 
out the car window. 

" Good heaven, Tom ! There's the old man 
Marsh ! " 

The S. O. P., that had began to trip, like a nup- 
tial march, across my tongue, was suddenly inter- 
rupted. Down went the flask, and, a second later, I 
was occupying a seat on the other side of the car, 
and was engaged in solemnly gazing out of the 
window upon the waste of snow that stretched away 
to the horizon. 

This promising drink was not taken, this change 
of seats was made, because I happened to see a 
portly old gentleman, with a double chin, a cane, a 
rheumatic limb on one side, and a not fashionable 
stove-pipe hat, walking along toward the car in 
which we sat. 

This was the old man Marsh who had spoiled my 
drink. 

Who was the old man Marsh? 

Mr. John Marsh was a lumber-merchant who lived 
not a thousand miles from Chicago. He was well 
to do. He had a pinery in Wisconsin, rafts on the 
Mississippi in summer, and lumber-yards all over 
Iowa and Wisconsin, the year round. What was of 
more importance to me, he had a daughter. 

A young woman, with a fine form, a peachy 
bloom on her cheeks, and eyes like black diamonds. 
I had met this young lady, and her motto, hence- 
forth, in my case, was: veni, vicli, vici. 

Just then out of college, and embarked in a liter- 
ary career, I was somewhat given to look upon the 
wine when it was red, and the accomplishment of 
tasting it. It seemed to agree with me. 



228 • Army and Other Sketches. 

Now, if Mr. John Marsh loved any thing next to 
his daughter and a good lumber season, it was the 
virtue of total abstinence. A young man who in- 
dulged in the flowing bowl was to him a good deal 
worse than a broken raft with no insurance, or any 
other unmitigated evil. 

I had just commenced publishing a daily news- 
paper in Davenport, Iowa. On the morning of 
that particular day there had come to me from 
Chicago a harum-scarum youth, to his intimates 
known as Tom Meeley. Tom was just from Cam- 
bridge, and was reading law with a Chicago 
Blackstone. Tom intermitted the study of law with 
practice at the har. He was a heavy practitioner 
for a young one. 

Since then, he has gone into short-hand and extra 
mural gardening, and he doesn't do as much of the 
bar practice as he did. 

On that Christmas morning of December, 1856, 
Tom had induced me to take a run over to Iowa 
City. The Legislature was in session; things were 
lively at the capitol; and fun was reasonably to be 
anticipated. 

Taking along two flasks of liquid refreshments, 
two other young men to make up a euchre party, 
and a pack of cards, we took the morning train. 

At the very first station after leaving* Davenport, 
had occurred what I have above alluded to. 

I was very thirsty. I had not wet my lips that 
morning; and was preparing for what my friend 
Mort. terms "an Enormous drink," when Mr. John 
Marsh passed across my line of vision. 

A minute or two later, the portly form of the old 
gentleman filled two-thirds of the seat which I oc- 
cupied, 



Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 22§ 

He was glad to see me. Had been to see about 
a lumber bill, at the place where he got on, and was 
going to Iowa City, to see about some more lumber 
bills. 

I inquired respectfully about the health of his 
amiable self. Then about that of his respected wife. 
Then about the lumber business. Then about a re- 
ligious revival in his town. Finally about the fair 
Harriet. The latter query elicited only a senten- 
tious reply — "Oh! she's well." 

En passant, there had come rumors to that good 
old man's ears that I was a trifle given to a habit 
which all Good Templars look upon with religious 
abhorrence. Therefore had he not been overwhelm- 
ingly enthusiastic in such slight advances as I had 
made in the direction of the gentle, young Harriet. 

Therefore did he a trifle abridge his reply when, 
after inquiring after sixty-five other things, I ven- 
tured to inquire after a certain old man's daughter. 

Meanwhile, my late companions were luxuriously 
engaged. Tom, who knew my reasons for leaving 
the party, had imposed non-intercourse upon the 
others. They shuffled, cut, dealt, went it alone, told 
riproarious stories, and shamelessly took drinks the 
while. 

Especially did they aggravate me — who was so 
thirsty — by nodding at me when I looked, and when 
my companion wasn't looking, then reversing their 
flask, and letting me hear the musical gushing of 
what was as much denied me as the cup to Tanta- 
lus. 

" Isn't it terrible that young men should act so?" 
said my venerable companion, indicating, with a 
jerk of his head, the party across the way. He 
looked searchingly into my face for my reply. 



230 Army and Other Sketches. 

"< Terrible!' Oh, yes! It is terrible! My heart 
bleeds when I see young men thus wasting the 
golden opportunity of youth, and indulging in prac- 
tices which must terminate in disaster, disgrace and 
ruin!" 

The face of Mr. John Marsh at once assumed a 
changed expression. He seemed suddenly to think 
more of me. We talked of how wicked are wicked 
men, and how good are good men. He even told 
me something about Harriet. 

We were all in the hotel at Iowa City. It was 
nearly bed-time. The old gentleman had taken a 
wonderful fancy to me. He had even insisted that 
we should occupy a double-bedded room. 

He had not left me a moment after the arrival of 
the train. I had introduced him to some of the 
State officials. He had invited me to a plate of 
oysters with him. 

He felt toward me like a father-in-law. 

Meanwhile I was thirsty to distraction. It was a 
nipping day; and there came from the subterranean 
recesses of the hotel an aroma of hot punch that 
was maddening as a fat beef -steak two inches be- 
yond the nose of a chained buH-dog. With the 
aroma there ascended the sound of song and laugh- 
ter. 

I was getting to be insane. I heard Tom's voice. 
I knew what was occurring. I felt the glow of the 
hot stove — inhaled the fragrance of the steaming 
punch; I felt it thrill me like a shock of bliss— all 
in imagination. 

Mr. John Marsh never quitted me for a moment. 
We talked business, politics, morality, religion, and 



Getting a Drink under Difficulties. °°1 

the benefits of a virtuous life. He requested me, 
just before bed-time, to wait while he wrote home a 
note. 

I afterwards saw the postscript to the note. Here 
it is: 

-'Tell Harriet I have met Mr. . I like him very much. 

The reports about his dissipation are false. He is one of the 
steadiest, most serious, and promising young men I know. I 
have no further objection to her receiving his attentions." 

Ten minutes later, this inflexible old man had 
hauled me off to bed. I went as a hungry epicure 
would leave untasted a superb dinner to go fifteen 
miles through snow-drifts to visit a sick neighbor 
down with the measles. 

A lemon-y odor, and a roaring old chorus of 

" We won't go home till morning." 

were the last thing that I smelled and heard as we 
entered our room and shut the door. 

It was maddening. I thought of rebelling. Then 
I thought of the peach-cheeked Harriet. And then 
I thought I wouldn't. I crawled into bed, wonder- 
ing what the d — 1 old Tantalus would think, provid- 
ing he was placed where I was. 

Suddenly a bright idea struck me. I would have 
just one punch, anyhow. The old gentleman was 
in bed, and couldn't smell my breath. A plan! A 
plan! Eureka! 

"Oh, Lord! Oh! Oh! Oh!" 

"What is it?" came in an alarmed tone from my 
companion's bed. 

"Oh, my! Oh, dear! such a pain! Oh, oh! oo — 
oo— oo !" 

He offered to get up, and go for a doctor. He 



232 Army and Other Sketches. 

was confoundedly willing and most infernally sym- 
pathetic. 

"No, my — oh! — dear sir. No — oh — oh! Don't 
disturb yourself. Only — oh! — oh! — a sudden spasm. 
All I need — oh! is a little camphor or something!" 

I slid into my garments, and went off groaning 
like an overladen freight locomotive, promising to 
return in a few minutes. 

As the door closed on me, the spiced gales from 
below struck my sense of smell as the sight of water 
greets the sight of one who is dying from thirst. 
Following my nose as one might push in the teeth 
of a stiff breeze, I pursued the aroma till it brought 
me to the depths below. 

A warm smell of sawdust, the pervading fragrance 
of lemon and Scotch whisky, the sight of Tom and 
three others sitting about a table with steaming 
punch pitchers before them, were what greeted my 
nostrils and eyes as I entered the hall of the sym- 
posium. 

There was a roar of delight at my appearance. 

"A punch, quick, boys !" 

Some two or three minutes were consumed in 
mixing. I whetted my senses with the steaming 
fragrance. I was overwhelmed with questions. 
The boys sang, roared, questioned, drank. I an- 
swered as I could, and, between the while, thun- 
dered at the boy: 

"Quick, for your life, and as strong as light- 
ning! " 

It came — hot, aromatic, penetrating, promising. 
I poured it into a goblet. 

" A toast ! a toast ! " roared the red-faced bac- 
chantes. 



Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 233 

" Up, then, to your feet," said I. " Fill to your 
brims. Here's to the sweetest young woman on the 
footstool, and to myself, her future husband, and to 
the oldest result thereof, whose name shall be " 

' ' I stopped petrified. The sentence was never 
finished. I was facing the entrance while speak- 
ing. The door was slowly opened and there entered 



Mr. John Marsh ! ! 

The countenance of that venerable old statue in 
the doorway will haunt me to the end of my time. 

Sometime after this tremendous occurrence, I saw 
a letter written on the 26th of December, 1856, and 
dated at Iowa City. It had a P. S., which read as 
follows: 

" Tell Harriet I have since altered my mind about . I for- 
bid her having any thing to do with him. He is a dissipated, 
shameless young man. I caught him in the very act of drinking, 
after having deceived me most abominably. And, to crown it 
all, he had the unblushing impudence to ask me to take a hot 
whisky to the health of his future father-in-law." 

This letter was signed, "Your Husband, J. 
Marsh." 

I have only to add that, some time after, I did 
marry a woman with diamond-black eyes, a peachy 
complexion, and whose name is Harriet. 

How, and through what tremendous labors, this 
was accomplished, mattereth not. 



A MORAL COUNTRY PLACE, AND ITS 
PEOPLE, 




EN— that is, men who labor — are bows, 
and their purposes are their arrows. Bows 
which shoot often, necessarily are bent a 
S^Sfe good deal. It is a good plan to take off the 
string occasionally, and hang them up in 
the sun to regain elasticity. 
Sagittarius is a citizen who has been in the 
bow business for some time. He became much bent 
in consequence. His arrows went feebly, and 
dropped short of the mark. Sometimes they hit, 
but fell back harmlessly. Sagittarius was losing 
his springiness; his string gave no metallic twang, 
but hung rather limp and loose. And so Sagittarius 
took off his string, and took himself into the coun- 
try. 

The country is a good thing. It evolves the mys- 
teries of growth. In its elements of growth there 
are collateral elements of strength and recupera- 
tion. It has a surplussage of forces which are not 
needed in production, and which communicate 
themselves by contact, as the steel takes magnetism 
from the loadstone. These recuperative forces can 
not be bottled and transported. They must be 
smelled, and tasted, and felt at their places of 
origin. One can not bring sunlight into a closed 
room. He must go where the sunshine is. It will 



A Moral Country Place and its People. 235 

not come to him. It can not be carried in his car- 
pet-sack, like a bottle of bitters. And so of all the 
other forces. The perfume will not leave its birth- 
place in the flower. 

Being a thrifty health-seeker, Sagittarius avoided 
Saratoga, the Beach, and the White Mountains. 
Seeking a point where there is a union of the mini- 
mum of men and the maximum of nature, he be- 
took himself to Kamengo. There are a railroad, a 
postoffice, a few churches, and a good deal of prairie 
at Ramengo. Around it are broad wheat-fields in 
brown stubble, and corn-fields green as an array of 
Fenians. Belts of timber straggle forward from or 
disappear in the distance. Little groves of scrub 
oak dot the emerald prairie. There is a tinkle of 
cow-bells about the town; and here and there may 
be seen masses of brown, and black and white, 
which closer inspection resolves into browsing cat- 
tle; and the whitey-brown piles at intervals are 
known by the initiated to be sheep. 

Such are some of the surroundings of Ramengo, as 
they revealed themselves to Sagittarius when he 
alighted at the depot. There were some people 
around the depot. They are the same people that 
Sagittarius has seen all his life at every railroad de- 
pot. They seemed detailed for depot service, and, by 
some singular means, they transport themselves from 
one depot to another, and always get to one just be- 
fore the train. There is one short, thick-set man, 
who rushes up with a canvas mail-bag, which a man 
with a pencil behind his ear takes into the car, and 
at the same time hands out another which is the 
twin brother of the other. There is a man with 
large boots, who puts' an old hair-covered trunk on 
the train, and takes off another hair-covered trunk, 



236 Army and Other Sketches. 

which looks like an elderly cousin of the one just 
starting out. There are two young women, who 
chew the end of their parasols, and who always ex- 
amine the train as if they expected their long-ab- 
sent uncle. These two young women have dresses 
of rather loud colors. They gaze bashfully at the 
grimy faces in the car- windows; and sometimes, 
when some one stares at them rather impudently, 
they turn aside and remark to each other confiden- 
tially something which sounds like " Te, he!" There 
is the ex- veteran, or rather a sore-eyed ancient in a 
cavalry coat, which you suspect may have been a 
donation. There is an African who suns himself 
upon an adjacent fence; and two young men with 
very large feet, and enormously long legs, and ex- 
ceedingly round shoulders, who stare open-mouthed 
into the car-windows, and then proceed to "make 
game" of the tired-looking " city feller" that gets 
off from the train. There are a burly cart-man, 
with a sleepy horse, and a half-dozen boys, who, in 
all variety of costume, chase each other across the 
car-platforms, in and out the depot, or across the 
track in front of the engine. There is also the in- 
evitable one-legged individual, and close by him 
are two dogs, which inspect each other with tails 
stiff as ramrods, and many growls. 

This saw Sagittarius at Ramengo. A pretty, blue- 
eyed young woman revealed herself through the 
open door of the depot. Her fingers were busily 
clicking some notes on that collection of coils, and 
magnets, and acids known as "the instrument." 
Such fingers should hold converse only with the 
strings of harps ; they were now sending an order 
for butter, or giving information as to the supply of 
eggs. It must be heavenly for a woman to be a tel- 



A Moral Country Place and its People. 237 

egraph operator, for then she will come in possession 
of so many secrets. And yet it must be torture for 
a woman to be a telegraph operator, for then she 
will know a thousand things which she cannot tell 
to any other woman. 

Ramengo is an interior town, and resembles more 
or less several hundred other interior Western towns 
of the same size. There is one street, upon which 
are all the shops and places of business. There are 
some cross and side-streets, upon which live the in- 
habitants. In front of each store is a hitching post, 
half gnawed in two by nibbling horses. Occasion- 
ally there is a wooden awning. The buildings are 
mainly of wood, one story in height, with a high 
false front to make them look like several stories. 

Ramengo prides itself upon being a most extra- 
ordinary moral place. It sums its virtues up in three 
propositions, to-wit: 

I. There are no billiard tables in the place. 

II. There are no whisky or beer saloons in the 
place. 

III. There is no rebel paper taken in the place. 
Such a high state of morality in so wicked an age 

greatly surprised Sagittarius. He marveled at the 
moral proficiency of the people. He debated within 
himself whether or no the millennium had not 
arrived and settled at Ramengo. He saw almost as 
many churches in town as there were other houses. 
The countenances of the men wore a look of high 
devotion. The women appeared saint-like, as if 
they had made up their minds that this is a very 
wicked world outside of Ramengo. 

Ramengo is prolific in children. There are mul- 
titudes on the streets; and the few doctors are hard- 
worked to attend to all the new arrivals. Every 



238 Army and Other Sketches. 

other man met by Sagittarius was in a tremendous 
hurry, and Sagittarius soon learned that he was 
going for the family physician. In the contour of 
the married ladies on the streets, or elsewhere, the 
parabole abounded. 

• The rising generation on Ramengo did not strike 
the observing Sagittarius as sharing fully the high 
moral superiority of their anti - billiard - table, 
anti-whisky-saloon, anti-copperhead progenitors. 
These young people — those of the masculine sex — 
are given to much irreligious and unsaint-like con- 
duct. They are disposed to haunt the single street 
of Ramengo at all times, and in endless quantities. 
A young man promenading with a young woman 
affords the young Ramengoans an opportunity for 
much unseemly converse designed for the benefit of 
the promenading two. An innocent and verdant 
stranger from the wilds of Chicago or New York, 
finds himself the object of much hilarious and not 
altogether complimentary comment among these 
youthful observers. The young of the godly people 
of Ramengo are prone to blasphemy. They are dis- 
posed to oaths whose length and frequency would 
excite the envy of a veteran pirate. Sagittarius 
heard and saw all these things, and he reflected 
with pious joy that, whatever else these sons of 
pious sires were guilty of, they had not at least to 
answer for the greater sin of reading rebel litera- 
ture. 

It is. a pleasant thing to sit under the awning and 
watch the ebb and flow of country life. All day 
long, teams come and go, as the farmers enter upon 
or depart from trading expeditions. The farmer's 
rig is about the same everywhere. There are a stout, 
substantial vehicle^ and two sturdy horses. They 



A Moral Country Place and its People. 239 

always come around the corner, and up to the store- 
front, at tremendous speed. If one walk a little out 
of town, he will see the horses coming in at the 
slowest of walks. Their heads droop, and the reins 
hang loosely. Suddenly, as the suburbs are entered, 
the reins are pulled taut, the drooping heads jerked 
high in the air; there is a lash or two of the whip, 
and in an instant the whole concern is tearing 
through the streets like a crazy locomotive. Coming 
out the thing is reversed. Away goes the vehicle 
as if life or death depended upon short time and 
long distance. It disappears in a cloud of dust 
around the corner. If you walk leisurely after it, 
you will be in ample time, a half hour after, to see 
it crossing the prairie as unhurriedly as if drawn by 
a snail. 

Sometimes the old man drives, and sometimes the 
young man. The rest of the road is, however inva- 
riable. There are always the feminine head of the 
family, a lady of about forty years; a young woman 
of about seventeen, who jumps from the tall wagon 
without assistance, and wears her back hair caught 
up in a net; and a boy of about ten or twelve, who 
attends to the wagon and looks sulkily at the town 
boys. There is likewise a dog, which, if a young 
dog, starts out for a social chat with his city 
cousins, and very soon comes back, having been 
badly thrashed by a bull-dog, half a dozen curs, and 
a few terriers. If an old dog, he gets in the wagon, 
and growls ferociously at the slightest approach to 
familiarity on the part of town people. 

Close traders are these farmers and their wives. 
They bring in usually a pail of butter or a box of 
eggs, and long is the battle for the highest buying 
and lowest selling figure. The old lady looks at the 



240 Army and Other Sketches. 

cotton cloths and the jeans; and the young lady 
prices the parasols, perfumery and back-combs. 
Sagittarius saw one sharp-eyed matron follow the 
clerk in his figuring up a bill of goods, and pour 
hogsheads of wrath upon his devoted head because 
he charged ten cents for a paper of pins, when 
Jones, over the way, would sell her the same pins 
for eight cents. 

There was a grand excitement in Ramengo the 
day before the arrival of Sagittarius. A bold thief 
had broken into the single jeweler's shop in town, 
and had carried off two silver watches. Daylight 
revealed the theft, and dire was the confusion 
throughout Ramengo. All the day long men gath- 
ered in knots and discussed the event. The jeweler 
was the hero of the day. Wherever he moved eager 
crowds surrounded him, and heard with open ears 
the recital of the dread event. Telegrams were sent 
east and west, and towards night came the astound- 
ing intelligence that the desperado had been cap- 
tured at a neighboring town. All the place vibrated 
to the intelligence, and by the next train the jeweler 
started to secure his property and the thief. 

Train after train came in from the east, and there 
came no jeweler, no thief, no booty. The crowds 
which attended each arrival of the train began to 
become uneasy. By-and-by, like the first rumors of 
a battle, there came whispers that the burglar had 
escaped. The appalling suggestion grew each hour 
more like a fact. Then it became a certainty; and, 
after a while, the jeweler himself returned without 
the thief. He had seen the thief; he had gotten one 
of the watches and $50; but the murderous delin- 
quent, entrusted to other hands, had mysteriously 
disappeared. 



A Moral Country Place and its People. 241 

Startling and tremendous was this intelligence to 
Ramengo. Ramengo gathered in knots to talk the 
affair over. Men hallooed questions across the 
streets, or repeated some particular from their store 
doors to the other men passing in wagons. Young 
Ramengo discussed the affair with a large season- 
ing of very pungent profanity. Those who heard 
the particulars from the jeweler repeated them to 
others, and they to still others; and so the news cir- 
cled outward like waters receding from the buffet 
of a stone. 

Many were the theories as to the escape of the 
culprit. Some fiercely held to one opinion, and 
some to another. The favorite opinion was, that 
the burglar was a Freemason, and that he had 
escaped through the aid of the craft. This led to 
hot discussions upon Morgan, and the enormity of a 
concern which shields murderers, burglars, and 
horse-thieves from the clutches of the law. The 
Ramengoans have not traveled much. Most of 
them have traveled from New England westward. 
But few have ever traveled to the East. Hence, 
many things. 

Going to church on Sunday in the country, is an 
institution. Early in the morning, two-horse wagons, 
loaded down to the guards, begin to enter town. 
These loads are not dissimilar. Three generations 
are usually represented. There is the old gentle- 
man, and sometimes his wife. His hair is gray and 
thin; his form attenuated and bowed; his fingers 
long, hooked, and skinny. Then there is the old 
man's son. He is broad-shouldered, sun-browned, 
and tough. Beside him, is his wife. She, too, is 
brown; and her half-mits reveal strong, thick fingers. 
There are also the oldest girl, and a smaller girl, and 



242 Army and Other Sketches. 

from two to five boys, with long, thick hair, brown 
faces, and a general appearance of being a good deal 
cramped in their Sunday clothes. The ancient looks 
absent-minded, somewhat as if intelligence were 
taking its insignia from his countenance, and leav- 
ing in place of them a wrinkled expressionless piece of 
sole-leather. The younger ones look rather defiant, 
as if, in coming into town, they had gotten into a 
hostile country and did not propose to be victimized 
without a fight. The horses look sometimes as if 
they had tried to get through a small hole, and had 
only succeeded in pushing their viscera pretty well 
back, where they had remained. They are small at 
the neck, and grow constantly larger towards their 
tails. A young colt or two usually trots alongside, 
and appears sublimely unconscious of the future, 
with its horse-collars, its plows, reapers, and long 
journey 

The church itself is not quite a cathedral. Coun- 
try teams are fastened to all the neighboring fences, 
and they have torn up the grass where they stamp 
the tormenting flies. There is a back gallery where 
the singers set, and in their midst is an asthmatic, 
but ambitious, little melodeon. There are always a 
pretty girl or two in the choir, and a rather romantic- 
looking young man who sings tenor. Somehow, 
ladies have a weakness for tenor-singers. The 
tenor knows it, and he affects melancholy and a thril- 
ling tendency to early decay. 

Sagittarius attended one of the churches in Ra- 
mengo. He found the same audience collected 
there that he had seen when he was a boy and went 
to church. There was the same anxious mother, 
dividing her time between the sermon and little boy 
who would get up and lie down, and who wanted 



A Moral Country Place and its People. 243 

cake, and who ocasionally got on his knees and 
stared vigorously and persistently into the face of the 
young women behind. The same dog came up the 
aisle, looking into all the seats for its owner, and, 
by its puzzled expression, afforded cause for much 
suppressed chuckling to the small-sized boys. The 
same old gentleman sat on the same front seat, and 
stared with dropped jaw, and wiped his rheumy old 
eyes with the same old, striped-silk pocket-handker- 
chief. The same farmer sat in the same seat, and 
slept all through the sermon, and woke up and 
looked around at the end, just as if he had only been 
thinking deeply with his eyes shut. The choir sang 
the same old tunes; the preacher presented the same 
old doctrinal points; and the same old crowd of 
rustic boors and dandies stood just outside the door, 
and stared into the faces of the people as they went 
out. 

Ramengo has its romance. Some places have one 
thing, and some another; but Ramengo has its crazy 
man. The crazy man lurks about the outskirts of 
the town, and sleeps in the cornfields. When the 
men go away from their houses, then the crazy man 
suddenly presents himself before the terrified women, 
and demands food. The crazy man is quite a young 
man; and it is reported and believed among the 
younger women of Ramengo that it is a case of love. 
Once the crazy man loved a young woman. Obdur- 
ate she, either from a prior attachment, cruel parents, 
or some other cause, frowned upon his passion. He 
pined; then he wilted; then he went crazy, and 
than he wandered away and came to Ramengo. 
Such is the feminine explanation of the enigma of 
the crazy man. It is a characteristic rendering of 
the mystery. 



244 Army and Other Sketches. 

The crazy man meanwhile looks as if craziness 
and lodging in cornfields do not agree with him. 
His hair and beard are matted, and his hat and coat 
in tatters. He is saving of his pantaloons, and 
usually carries them hung over his arm like a towel. 
The effect is peculiar — a good deal more peculiar, in 
fact, than modest. 

It would take too long to recount all that Sagit- 
tarius saw and did in Ramengo. He sat whole days 
in a store door, and stared at the milliners over the 
way, and at the boys who originated dog-fights in 
the street. One day he took his carpet-sack, put 
himself upon the train, and came away 




BICYCULAR AFFECTION. 




SAD history came to my notice, one day 
, last week, when walking around Chicago. 
^^ It involves the happiness of two young per- 
sons. It is the saddest of those sad occur- 
rences in which the human heart is involved, 
and in which it is the principal actor as well as 
the grandest sufferer. 

There is a young gentleman of attractive appear- 
ance, excellent education, and fine financial pros- 
pects, who lives with his parents in a pleasant brick 
dwelling on the avenue. 

A year ago this young gentleman commenced 
paying his addresses to the youngest daughter of 
one of our most prosperous commission merchants, 
who is a resident of a princely dwelling on the ave- 
nue. The young lady is a superb blonde, with clus- 
tering curls, a petite form, and a lithe figure. She 
moves with that easy, undulating grace which is 
best described by the word " willowy "—that infinite 
flexibility whose motion is never angular, or dis- 
turbed, or interrupted. Her fingers possess that ex- 
quisite contour which is equally removed from 
emaciated slenderness and muscular plumpness. 

Charmingly developed in disposition, carefully 
cultivated in intellect, she unites in body, soul, and 
heart, that peculiar poise which is only found in 
characters that approximate closely to equable and 



246 Army and Other Sketches, 

perfect development. Just passed nineteen, at the 
time my narrative commences, she was at the pre- 
cise age when the germs of youth had unfolded into 
fresh and fragrant blossoms. 

He possessed all her delicacy of soul with a vigor- 
ous, masculine organization, in which he presented 
that most perfect of manly characters — one in which 
the refinement peculiar to a woman is hardened and 
intensified in a man, until he becomes a power, a 
support, and yet characterized by infinite delicacy. 
An organization of the kind is one like what a rose 
would be could it be hardened till it possessed the 
tenacity of steel, without losing any of its flexi- 
bility, fragrance, and delicacy. 

His person was tall and perfectly erect; his 
shoulders broad, and the beginning of a pyramid 
which narrowed regularly to his heels. His eyes 
were a full, deep brown, and his hair heavy, and 
just a shade relieved from raven blackness. 

The course of true love did, at first, run smoothly. 
Of the proper age, of excellent prospects, of perfect 
health, they constituted a pair that seemed as ex- 
pressly created for each other as the bud and its sup- 
porting branch. Their affection was profound, with- 
out degenerating into maudlin sentimentality. 
Founded upon mutual respect,it bade fair never to be- 
come weakened by a familiarity which can only re- 
sult in satiety, and possibly, disgust. They seemed 
to be possessed of that rare faculty among lovers, that 
of keeping in exact equipoise an ardent love and 
a profound respect. It is rare, indeed, that one of 
these qualities does not give way to the other, in 
which case the result is the inevitable destruction of 
both. 



Bicycular Affection. 247 

Three months ago, the acquaintanceship, which had 
long since ripened into affection, resulted in an en- 
gagement. The marriage was fixed for the first of 
May. And then began, on the part of both, those 
preparations, so full of pleasure, for the coming sac- 
rifice at the altar. 

It was two weeks before the glorious May-day 
upon which was to occur the consummation of these 
intermingling loves. 

About this period, he called one evening at the 
residence of his fiancee. When he arrived, he sat in 
the parlor until she should make her appearance. 
Upon this evening, he waited with a warm and yet 
controlled impatience for her coming. The few 
minutes that usually elapsed between his arrival 
and her presence passed, and she came not. His 
anticipations began to grow into anxiety, and then 
— she came. 

He started from his seat as the door opened, with 
eagerly outstretched arms, and lips fixed for the cus- 
tomary kiss. 

" My darling," he began, and then stopped sud- 
denly, frozen in speech and motion into rigidity. 

Instead of her usually springy step to meet him, 
she entered with a slow and measured walk. In 
place of glowing with expectancy, her face was 
characterized by a gloomy resolution. 

She stopped in front of him as he stood like a 
marble statue of disappointed expectancy. Her 
eyes full of sadness and reproach, were turned 
sternly upon his face. 

And thus, for a moment or two, they stood con- 
fronting each other like two statues of Strength and 
Beauty, 



248 Army and Other Sketches. 

" Well, sir!" at length came from her lips, in slow, 
cold, and measured tones. 

The words seemed an icy missile that pierced his 
heart. His form relaxed, the fine tension of his 
pose gave way, his strength seemed to have sud- 
denly left him. 

" Well, sir!" he repeated, mechanically. "Good 
heavens! she says ' Well, sir!' " continued he, as if 
communing with himself. He gazed at her feebly 
for a moment, and then staggered to, and sank 
upon, a sofa. 

She moved to an arm-chair and seated herself in 
it with deliberation. She was now several feet from 
the sofa, and yet close enough to converse with 
ease. 

The young man struggled with the vast emotions 
that enveloped him. A little later, and he emerged 
from himself, and a reaction began to bring strength 
to his relaxed features and a steady light to his eye. 

"You said 'Well, sir,'" began he, with some 
firmness, "and, in reply, permit me to observe, 
Well, miss!" 

She gazed at him unflinchingly and unmovingly. 
He continued. 

* " It is strange language for me to use, but there 
seems nothing else that applies to this singular meet- 
ing. Perhaps you will save me from a further use 
of it by giving me an explanation?" 

" Sir," said she. " I have no explanation to offer." 

'"No explanation!' Am I mad? Is this all a 
dream? Do I meet you with every line off affection 
effaced from your face, with your mouth dropping 
icicles, and hear only that there is no explanation?" 

She gave no answer. He waited a moment, and 
resumed, with a slight accent of indignation: 



Bicycular Affection. 249 

"You have no explanation, then, for this cold- 
ness? Perhaps none is due me. Perhaps I have no 
right. It may be that the belief on my part that 
you were soon to become my wife is a fancy, a 
dream?" 

"It is," she said, simply. 

" Heavens ! Are you insane? " 

"Not in the least, sir." 

" Tell me, then, what all this means ! I will know 
if I have to tear it from your false heart ! " and 
he arose to his feet and stood towering and mad- 
dened above her. 

She regarded him quietly. " No violence or 
heroics," she said, calmly, "are of use, or will 
avail. If you have ever believed that an engage- 
ment existed between yourself and me " — she did 
not say us — " you will regard it as a dream or a fic- 
tion." 

" Do you mean this? " 

"I do." 

"And I can have no explanation? " 

" None from me." 

"Then go to" — he began, savagely; but the ruf- 
fianism of the moment died away as soon as it 
came, and he added, "Good evening;" and without 
another word, he strode from the room. 

"One moment," she called. "Take these;" and 
she put into his hands a weighty package. 

And then he passed into the street, and, a little 
later, he sat in his own room. Before him, on a 
table, lay the contents of the package she had given 
him. 

They were his presents ! 

With his elbow on the table, and both hands 
clutched savagely into his hair, and supporting his 



250 Army and Other Sketches. 

head, he gazed, with bloodshot eyes, upon the costly 
trinkets spread before him. 

There was a tiny ring of brilliants. It recalled a 
glorious moonlight night of warm September. A 
bracelet brought up one summer evening, when his 
soul was thrilled with the first kiss. 

And thus each article suggested some sunny scene, 
some exquisite enjoyment. He groaned as if his 
soul was struggling for an exit. 

Suddenly his eye caught a tiny envelope. He 
seized it. It was sealed, and without direction. 
He tore it open. A printed piece of paper, evi- 
dently cut from a newspaper, was within, a,nd fas- 
tened to a sheet of note paper. Over it was written, 
in a well-known handwriting, the single word, 
"Read." With a painfully- throbbing heart, he pe- 
rused the following: 

" Competent medical authorities have decided that serious 
results are caused by riding the velocipede. Among these, not 
the least is the giving to Malthusian doctrines a practical and 
eminently undesired effect. 

And this was all. To-day, that young man saunt- 
ers listlessly about the streets of Chicago, a broken- 
hearted being. Once a skillful velocipedist, he now 
shuns the rinks, as a freed sinner would a return to 
purgatory. Gone are his ambition, his hope, his 
love. 





ALL ABOUT A WOMAN. 



T the battle of Shiloh, one of the regiments 
that was well out to the front was the 
Eleventh Iowa. Its colonel was William 
Hall. A lady was with him who was his wife. 
When Beauregard made his march on the 
Federals, on that morning, he omitted to send 
word of his coming. Inconsequence, his unexpect- 
ed arrival produced some surprise, not to say confu- 
sion. Many of our people had not yet risen, and, 
like well-bred gentlemen, they say that their des- 
habille was unfitted for the reception of the French- 
man. Therefore, many of them hastily fled, to 
make their toilets. A good many did not make 
them in time to return on that day to the front. 

I will not say that Colonel Hall was quite as un- 
prepared as this. Nevertheless, pretty much the 
first intimation which the colonel and lady received 
of a confederate visit was a twelve-pound shell that 
came crashing through their tent. And then the 
colonel hastily dressed himself, buckled on his sabre 
and went out. Mrs. Hall proceeded to finish her 
toilet. Meanwhile, shell and round shot tore through 
her canvas boudoir, as if to suggest a hasty depart- 
ure of its occupant. 

But she carefully arrayed herself all the same. 
Back hair and front hair were elaborately arranged 
as usual. Cuffs and collars were duly pinned. Then 



252 Army and Other Sketches. 

a few articles of dress were hunted for and packed 
up. After which she went out, with her package, 
to the rear of her tent, saddled a pony, mounted it, 
and rode slowly to the rear. 

All this time the air above and around was riven 
with fierce-speeding missiles, and red with the flame 
of bursting shells. She moved calmly through the 
deafening and blasting tempest, till she reached the 
protecting banks of the Tennessee. 

That evening her needle and thread came into use 
for purposes of repair. Her dress was cut in some 
twenty-nine different places by bullets and frag- 
ments of shell. 

At Iuka, Mrs. Hall once more ran the gauntlet of 
rebel bullets; and again, although her dress was 
pierced in a score of places, she coolly moved un- 
harmed through the deadly storm. On the long 
march around Yicksburg I again met her. She rode 
beneath the broiling sun, along the interminable 
bayous, as uncomplainingly as if on a visit to a 
neighbor. She was in the trenches at Vicksburg, 
and remained there until the strong city had sur- 
rendered. 

The next spring, stricken down by a chronic dis- 
ease, her husband went home to Davenport, Iowa, 
and she as faithfully accompanied him as she had 
during the long months that separated Shiloh from 
Vicksburg. 

For months her husband was an invalid. After a 
while he grew better, and then some unexpected 
turn of the disease occurred, and he died. The 
widow, after settling up her estate, found herself 
possessed of one charming little daughter, and no 
means whatever. With this capital she came, in 
1865, or 1866, to Chicago, and took up her residence 



All About a Woman. 253 

with some relatives. Now commenced the real 
battle of life. 

Her papers, duly made out and sent to the pension 
office, were returned with the information that there 
was no proof in them that her husband died of a 
disease contracted in the army. She sent them to 
her legal agent, who consumed six months in find- 
ing out that he — did not know what to do. 

Meanwhile, the lady brought no end of pressure 
upon Gilmore, and, in time — say six months later — 
was rewarded by a subordinate position in the 
Chicago postoffice. And then she gave her atten- 
tion to getting her pension. 

Her agent had given up the thing in disgust. He 
could not produce the proof required by the pension 
department. He so advised her, and told her that 
hope of government aid was useless. Under the 
circumstances most women would have yielded the 
struggle. She resolved to fight the thing out. 

She occupied nearly a year in trying to find the 
address of the division surgeon.* Letters were sent 
everywhere. Some of them, in time, came back 
from the dead-letter office. Others gave her assur- 
ances that the surgeon was dead, or in New Mexico, 
in California, or that it was not known where he 
was. Still, she followed up the trail, but was ever 
baffled. Time and again did she travel from Chicago 
to various portions of the east and west, in the hope 
that some army surgeon could give her the required 
proof. She took statements which were sent on to 
Washington with new papers, but always the inex- 
orable official returned them with the indorsement 
that there was not sufficient proof that the cause of 
death was acquired in the army. 



254 Army and Other Sketches. 

During the intervals of hunting up testimony, she 
opened up a correspondence with Iowa congressmen, 
asking for a special act in her favor. This was in 
1867. Plastic congressmen answered her that the 
thing could be done, and should be done. 

As is customary, they promised and — did nothing. 
She waited a year on these promises, and then went 
to Washington. She got Grant's indorsement of 
her petition for a special act. Sherman signed it, 
and so did many another dignitary of the army of 
Tennessee. Leaving them in the hands of Congress- 
man Price, she returned to Chicago. 
' The petition went before the committee and was 
defeated. She was so advised, and was told that 
nothing more could be done. Here was another ex- 
cellent point to give up at. But she didn't. She 
continued the fight. 

Once more she commenced corresponding with 
and visiting different places. She got up another 
series of affidavits and papers — the fiftieth possibly, 
in all — and sent them on to Congress asking a special 
act. 

In this way she fought on till March, 1869. 

At this time, the health of some member of the 
family gave way, and she accompanied him to some 
country place near Pock Island. Just before leav- 
ing Chicago, she was notified that her bill had 
passed through the committee. This was cheering. 
The next letter informed her that it had passed the 
house, and concluded with the information that, as 
it was so near the end of the session, it would not 
be reached by the senate, and that it was very 
doubtful, in case it could reach that body, that it 
would pass. 



All About a Woman. 255 

And so ended her hopes. She went into the coun- 
try, wearied with her arduous struggle, but not dis- 
mayed or defeated. During the intervals of waiting 
upon her father, she planned a new campaign, and 
sought for fresh evidence. 

Thirty days passed without her hearing from any 
one. Then there came along a neighbor who 
brought a letter which he had accidently seen ad- 
vertised in the Bock Island post-office. It was post- 
marked at Washington, and read, in substance: 
"Your bill was reached by the senate, and was 
passed at almost the last moment. It has been duly 
signed by the president," etc. 

In the language of her sex, the young woman sat 
down and "had a good cry." A day or two later 
she got a draft for some sixty months' back pension, 
at the rate of $30 per month. 

If this sketch proves any thing, it is that Provi- 
dence helps those who help themselves, even if they 
are women. 





A RIDE TO DEATH. 



^OME years ago, I found myself a temporary 
^ resident of one of those bluff-cities lying 
Pp?* some where on the Mississippi between its 
source and the gulf. I had just left college, 
and, with a sheepskin in my pocket, certifying 
that I was duly exalted to the dignity of a B. A., 
I started to the great west in search of what I 
lacked most, viz. : fame and fortune. 

It was at the time that the western fever was epi- 
demic all over the eastern states. In every home in 
the seaboard and middle states, somebody was 
stricken with the malady. Generally the victim 
was the scapegrace of the family. He was the rest- 
less, uneasy member, to whom a future which prom- 
ised only the dull routine of the past was a matter 
of supreme disgust. 

As a logical result, tne men who came west were 
usually young, ambitious and daring. Timid souls 
stayed at home. Only those who had the strength 
to burst the shackles of fogyism, could escape the 
weary imprisonment, which habit and custom had 
imposed upon the residents of the older states. 

It was some twelve years ago from the time I 
write that I found myself west of the Mississippi. 
The city where I first stopped on my journey was 
supposed to be a sort of Gaditanum Fretum, at 



A Bide to Death. 257 

which was the narrow strait which connected the 
known with the unknown world. Passing through 
it, one was supposed to embark on an ocean, in any 
part of which he might discover fairy islands with- 
out number. 

The place was full of adventurers who had not yet 
embarked. Either the winds were not fair, or there 
was nothing about to sail, or they had no money to 
pay the passage, or something. At any rate, in a 
a week after I had reached the town I found myself 
in company with several hundred young men, mainly 
engaged in nothing in particular. Everybody was 
running around frantically; everybody was fevered 
and restless, and full of schemes and anticipation; 
but the great number of the new-comers was not 
doing anything else. In such a case when hope is 
large and realization scanty, men very easily fall 
into the habit of drinking. 

When one is possessed with a grand vision, and 
fails to see it become a reality, there is nothing that 
will so effectually prevent the fading of this vision 
as generous wine. It brings out colors which are 
passing away; it restores fancies which are about to 
elude the grasp. 

Many of us, who had reared magnificent air- 
castles, saw them gradually becoming effaced. 
Dipping our brushes in the golden depths of the 
wine-pot, we could repaint, re-decorate, restore these 
vanishing creations. To be sure the restoration was 
not lasting; each day the process required repetition, 
and each time the labor was a greater one. 

I succeeded in getting a room after some difficulty; 
and then I had to share one already occupied by two 
young men about my own age. Both, like myself, 
had left the East to seek their fortune in the roseate 



258 Army and Other Sketches. 

West. They were named respectively Howe and 
Brattles. Howe was from some where in New Eng- 
land, and Brattles from New York. 

We soon found that we stood upon common 
ground. Howe and Brattles had been some months 
waiting for something to turn up. Nothing had 
turned up, except that the bills of the landlord came 
with regularity; and the diet, discomfort, and crowd 
each day turned up a little worse, if possible, than 
they had on the day before. My two companions 
mainly occupied themselves in "letting" themselves 
"down" from an old drunk, or clambering vigor- 
ously into a new one. I found them intelligent, 
jovial and communicative. In a week, I shared all 
their hopes and disappointments; and applied my- 
self as vigorously as they to hunting comfort in an 
inverted tumbler. 

Howe was a singular sort of a character, He was 
tall, straight, with a swarthy complexion, and 
straight, black hair; and he possessed other points 
which made him look not unlike one of Indian des- 
cent. He may have had some aboriginal blood in 
his veins; but of this I never knew. He was very 
reticent about his family, and never alluded to any 
of his relatives, save to sometimes intimate, in a 
vague way, something about having left home on 
account of trouble with his father. He had bursts 
of loquacity in his reticence; but generally he con- 
versed but little. When intoxicated, or partially so, 
his whole nature changed. It was on such occasions 
that I suspected his possessing an Indian origin. 
Then his black eyes would blaze, and he would be- 
come as restless as a wild beast. At a certain point 
he would become utterly reckless, and was ready 
for any act, regardless of its character or results. 



A Ride to Death. 259 

Of Brattle's peculiarities it is not necessary to 
speak, further than to say that he was somewhat 
careless and thoughtless, easily influenced, and 
ready at all times, without reflection, to follow in 
any movement in which somebody else would take 
the lead. In many respects, the same was true of 
myself. I was rather indolent, and very glad to avail 
myself of the ingenuity of others in the securing of 
ways and means for amusement, and for passing the 
time, which hung rather heavily upon our hands. I 
mention these peculiarities of my two companions 
and myself for reasons which will make themselves 
apparent in time. 

It was in the latter part of September that oc- 
curred the incident which I am about to relate. 
Howe was the first out of bed one morning, and, 
going to the window, he threw open the blinds and 
looked out. A gleam of sunshine lighted the room, 
and the fresh morning air rushed in laden with in- 
spiration. 

"I say, fellows," said Howe, after taking in the 
prospect for a few moments, " let's go into the coun- 
try. It's a glorious morning; and I am getting tired 
of this infernal city." 

" I'm in," said Brattles. 

"And I," said the remaining member of the trio. 

" But where shall we go?" inquired Howe. 

" Oh, anywhere," responded I; let us dine some- 
where where there are no corner-lot speculators, no 
invitations to a game of seven-up." 

"That's it," chimed in Brattles; "we want to get 
where we can cool the fever in our blood. Let us 
get out where we can breathe and bathe in air that 
has not been made red-hot by the curses of ruined 
speculators," 



260 Army and Other Sketches. 

And much more to the same purport— the result 
of which was that we swallowed a hasty breakfast, 
and then went in a body to an adjacent livery 
stable. 

I had frequently engaged horses at this same 
stable; and, having always brought everything back 
in good order, the proprietor was willing to trust me 
with his better class of animals. In response to our 
request for a "rig," " Mack" informed us that he 
had nothing available except a certain animal which 
he did not like to let, as he was inclined to run away 
unless closely watched. 

We promised due diligence, and, after some hesi- 
tation, " Mack " consented. On account of the 
character of the horse, and because we were going 
in the country, the vehicle selected for us was a 
stout, square affair, somewhat like the ordinary ex- 
press wagon. The horse was speedily harnessed, 
and was driven out. He was a large, powerful 
beast, jet black, and with a vicious eye, that blazed 
like a live coal. When he was driven out by the 
assistant, he came with a series of ugly lunges, and 
two or three shakes of the head that were full of 
mischievous promise. 

" You want to watch that critter right close," said 
" Mack," as we clambered in, and the boy held the 
horse by the head with no small difficulty. "He's 
uglier nor h— 11," continued "Mack," as I gathered 
up the reins, "arid, if you ain't watchin' him, he'll 
string you sure." 

"All right," said I, " let him go, boy;" and away 
we went over the cobble-stones of one of the main 
streets, at a speed which, had we known any thing 
of Dexter, would have reminded us of that renowned 
animal. 



A Bide to Death. 261 

Howe said he had forgotten something at the 
hotel, and insisted that I should drive there for a 
moment. I consented finally, and managed, not to 
stop, but to lay " off and on," in front of the build- 
ing during Howe's absence. He returned in a few 
minutes with a box of cigars and something wrap- 
peel up in a paper, and whose outlines were not un- 
like those of a large bottle. He clambered into the 
wagon with a good deal of difficulty, and, a moment 
after, we were bowling along a straight street that 
led direct into the country. 

As I stated in the beginning of this narration, the 
town at which I was located is built upon the bluffs 
of the Mississippi. That is, a portion of the town 
is on the bluffs; but the business portion, and, in 
fact, the greater part of the place, lies on the bottom 
between the foot of the bluffs and the river. The 
bluffs are very lofty, rising at some points from 300 
to 400 feet above the banks of the river. The action 
of water, exerted for centuries, has cut deep ravines 
down these heights, along which the inhabitants 
have cut streets. Without these ravines, nothing 
less than a ladder would serve one in getting from 
the bottom to the heights of the bluffs. 

Some of these ravine roads were finished, and 
others were not. The main route to the country 
was along " Julian avenue," as it was called, — the 
broadest, least crooked and most finished of the 
roads leading up the bluffs. The ravine up which it 
ran had been blasted and wrought upon, until there 
resulted a wide street, straight as an arrow, and 
which rose from the " bottom" to the high country 
lying back by a gradient of about thirty-five degrees. 
Its surface was solid rock, and it was smooth as a 
floor, save that here and there were little bits of 



262 Army and Other Sketches. 

rocks which had fallen from the walls of the street, 
or had been washed into various positions by the 
water which, after heavy rains, poured into the 
avenue from lateral ravines. 

In some places, high, smooth walls of rock, bear- 
ing the mark of the drill, rise on both sides of the 
street. In other places, the adjacent sides recede in 
sloping amphitheatres, in which are residences. At 
intervals, where the bluffs abut squarely on the 
street, huge fragments of rocks have become de- 
tached from these revetements; and they lie, here 
singly, there in vast, misshapen piles which thrust 
themselves well towards the centre of the thorough- 
fare, and necessitate vehicles to make a slight de- 
tour in passing them. 

It was up this avenue that we directed our course, 
and up which our horse, despite the ascent and the 
heavy wagon, proceeded at a swift trot, which only 
a tight rein prevented from becoming a gallop. 
From the point where the avenue begins at the 
" bottom" to the point where it issues upon the 
highland beyond, is just about a mile. The place 
where the ascent ends and the level road begins, is 
as sharply defined as the ridge of a house. Going 
into the city, one walks from the level road and 
commences the descent at one step, as if he were to 
step suddenly from a flat to a descending roof. 

Notwithstanding the speed at which we ascended, 
I noticed, in passing, several little groups and 
events. At one brick house, a woman with a broom 
stood at one of the windows. She had on a dark 
calico dress, and one of her blonde locks had escaped 
and hung down over her left shoulder. In a yard, 
several children were playing, — one of whom, a 
boy, was carrying a little girl pick-a-back. A cur 



A Bide to Death. 263 

with immense splay feet chased a spaniel with long 
ears, among the shrubbery. At another place were 
two cows, one of which was grazing, and the other, 
attracted by the noise of our vehicle, raised her 
head and stared at us with wondering eyes. 

We emerged into the open country; and, after pro- 
ceeding a couple of miles, my arms became tired 
holding the vicious beast which hauled us. Howe 
proposed to turn off in a little grove by the roadside, 
and tie the animal to a tree. We did so; and, a 
little later, the horse was securely fastened, and we 
were sunning ourselves in a grassy opening that 
presented itself near the outskirts of the grove. 

It is foreign to my purpose to relate the conversa- 
tion and minutiae of our stay. Suffice it, that our 
conversation took a wide range, and that it was 
punctuated by frequent applications of the bottle 
which had been secured by Howe. We retailed old 
jokes, invented new ones, sang and became hilari- 
ous. In the course of about three hours the bottle 
was empty, and all of us had passed into that con- 
dition in which recklessness was in the ascendancy. 
A return to town, and " to make a night of it," were 
proposed and carried unanimously. 

We unhitched the horse, and, getting in with 
much trouble, we started homewards. Howe in- 
sisted on driving, and I consented. Annoyed by 
the flies, which had been tormenting him all day, 
and knowing himself to be going towards home, the 
horse was more headstrong than usual, and tore 
along at a pace which only the efforts of two of us 
at the reins could prevent from setting into a run. 
We all three sat upon the seat, Howe in the middle. 

I noticed that Howe was more intoxicated than 
either Brattles or myself. His cheeks were flushed, 



264 Army and Other Sketches. 

and his black eyes shone with a fierce, unnatural 
fire. His jaws were set, and his breathing was 
short and accompanied with a noise like that of 
snoring. The excitement of the drive had deepened, 
instead of lessened, intoxication. 

" Steady, old fellow," said I, as, emerging from a 
a strip of "timber/' we found ourselves only a few 
rods from where began the descent of Julian ave- 
nue. " Steady, now! We are getting into town." 

"All right," said he, and with a powerful effort he 
reined the horse into a walk. The animal shook his 
head madly and tugged fiercely at the bit. A mo- 
ment after we reached the descent, and the long 
declivity of the avenue came into view. At the very 
instant that we gained the point where the avenue 
"breaks" down from the level and commences to 
descend, the horse gave a wild plunge. The next 
instant, Howe rose suddenly to his feet. With his 
left hand he threw the lines over the horse's head, 
and with his right he brought down the heavy 
whip with tremendous force upon the animal's back, 
exclaiming, with a voice that rose almost to a 
shriek: 

" You want to go ! Then go ! G — d d — n you ! " 

I had just sufficient time to see the brute leap with 
a maddened bound into what seemed space, when I 
found myself thrown over the seat into the box 
behind with stunning violence. Brattles fell beside 
me, and Howe came heavily, and with an unfinished 
yell on his lips, upon both of us. 

What followed was like a dream, whose images 
stand out prominently, but which lacks continuity. I. 
remember falling, but I do not remember how I re- 
covered myself. After the fall, the next thing which 
I recollect is, that I was sitting on the bottom of the 



A Bide to Death. 265 

wagon, holding to the railing; that Brattles had dis- 
appeared; and that Howe was partly on one knee, 
just before me, clinging to the edge of the box, bare- 
headed, rocking furiously, and giving utterance to 
maniacal yells of exultation. 

The stroke of the whip, the blasphemous impreca- 
tion of Howe, the bound of the horse, the fall, the 
recovery, — all seem to have occurred instantane- 
ously. Time seems to have been obliterated. I 
recollect these events, and they all appear as if they 
took place at the same time. 

After the lapse of the moment of unconsciousness 
that must have occurred immediately at the time I 
was thrown backward, and the instant that I par- 
tially sat upright, I seemed at once endowed with a 
sort of tripartite consciousness. Three distinct sets 
of thoughts seemed to possess me, each of which 
apparently pursued an independent process. These 
three processes seemed respectively to take in sim- 
ultaneously the past, present and future. 

In the present, I saw exactly and comprehended 
our situation. I saw the black devil in front, with 
flying mane, plunging madly down the avenue. I 
saw Howe distinctly, and was conscious of his exact 
expression. I felt the wagon, not running appar- 
ently on the ground, but only touching it at intervals, 
and then springing forward as if it were progressing 
by great leaps. A black wall was on either side of 
me, which seemed composed of long, horizontal 
layers of darkness, that were rushing backward with 
the speed of lightning; but even in this, as in a pool 
of ink, I saw houses and fences, and recognized the 
outlines of jutting rocks. 

Such are the outlines of what may be called the 
present of the three processes which possessed me 



%66 Army and Other Stories. 

It was clear and distinct, but none the less so than 
the second process, and which related to the future. 
This portion of the triune existence thus suddenly 
thrust upon me related chiefly to what might hap- 
pen. I saw, as if clairvoyantly, what lay before us. 
I could see that we would reach a pile of rock; that 
the wheel would pass over it, and we be dashed from 
the overtuned wagon against the wall below. 

All this time the third process seemed in opera- 
tion. This busily wove into a ragged woof, events 
of the past. They were not the more important oc- 
currences of my life that were thus, as it were, 
knotted together. This third faculty may be better 
compared to a species of divergent light, like that 
shot from the great lamp of a locomotive. Some 
such species of illumination appeared to be thrown 
into the past. In the midst of the vista which it 
clove in the darkness, I could discover events in 
my life as if they had been paintings or statuary 
flashed upon by a light. 

As I have said, I neither saw the grander occur- 
rences of my life, nor was there any regular pro- 
gress, like a review. The divergent light flashed 
upon something away back in my childhood, and 
immediately after upon something which occurred 
that morning. Thus, I saw myself walking with a 
younger brother. He could just barely walk, and I 
saw myself holding his hand, and recognized that, 
he wore a frock, and a hood which was fastened to 
his head with a silk handkerchief that was knotted 
under his chin. I saw this picture as through' a 
lighted tube, in a dense wall of darkness that seemed 
the past. The very next thing that the light revealed 
to me was the woman with the broom, and the dark 
dress, and the straggling lock of hair, whom I had 



A Bide to Death. 267 

noticed that morning at the window. There was no 
method in its revelations. One moment, it threw 
its long rays across a play-ground and a group of 
school-boys, of whom I was one; and the next, there 
were visible through the darkness the boy carrying 
his little sister pick-a-back, and the splay-footed cur 
chasing its long-eared companion among the trees. 

It appeared to be that I knew I would be killed. 
Death was present; and, although without form it 
was as if I could feel it in a sort of shadowy some- 
thing that seemed to be gradually gathering about, 
and constricting the motion of my heart. Despite 
this, I was not alarmed at the apparent certainty of 
death. I had no particular recollection of the good 
or evil of my life. There was rather a triviality 
that attended this certainty of death. I wondered 
what the woman in the window would think could 
she see us; and whether the little boy would not 
drop his sister in pitying horror could he appreciate 
our situation. I seemed to strive to guess what my 
mother would say when she heard the news; and 
perhaps the same attempt occurred with reference 
to a dozen other people. But all this time I realized 
nothing — I never even thought of futurity. Heaven 
or hell came no more to my mind than if I had never 
heard of their existence. 

One sensation that I recall was, that I seemed 
gradually being swallowed up in darkness. It was 
not a thick darkness; but rather I seemed enveloped 
by a medium which was possessed of fluidity and 
transparency, but which was gradually growing 
darker. I could appreciate that this medium would 
eventually become black, and this seemed the meas- 
ure of my life. My thoughts and existence would 



£68 Army and Other Sketches. 

accompany its changes; and, when the full black 
was reached, my life would be gone. This ultimate 
and approaching blackness seemed pure non-exist- 
ence, into which I should finally be merged. 

The portion of the trinity which possessed me, 
and which related to the present, was, as I have 
already intimated, of surprising clearness. It 
seemed a sort of independent consciousness, and oc- 
cupied itself with immediate surroundings and cir- 
cumstances. It revealed the horse, perfectly out- 
lined, and appearing like a mass of black launched 
in space. I saw distinctly the large, loose sleeves of 
Howe's coat, and his hair fluttering in the wind with 
the rapidity of lightning. I saw the long perspec- 
tive of the avenue, with its ascending and descend- 
ing vehicles and pedestrians. In the background 
lay the Mississippi; and I caught the reflection of a 
fleecy cloud in its depths; and, just coming around 
a point above, I saw a steamboat, and read without 
difficulty the name upon its wheel-house. I even 
noticed a little group of passengers upon the hurri- 
cane deck; and I observed that a furnace door was 
open, and that a fireman was pushing something in 
the red, cavernous depths. 

Exactly opposite, on the sidewalk, was a woman 
holding a little girl by the hand. The latter tugged 
at the hand with the other, as if urging her forward; 
the mother, with an expression of horror upon her 
face, stood like a frozen statue. Just below, was a 
farmer driving an empty hay-wagon. He had risen 
to his feet, and was lashing his horses to get them 
out of our way. I even noticed that his horses were 
ordinary farm-horses, and that one of them, catching 
sight of us, had arched his neck and thrown forward 
its ears with an appearance of fright. I could see 



A Ride to Death. 269 

pedestrians all along the street. Some of those 
nearest us had caught sight of us, and had stopped; 
but nearly all were ascending or descending, as if 
unconscious of the imminence of any thing uncom- 
mon. 

The wagon seemed possessed of volition and inde- 
pendent motion. It leaped, bounded, rather than 
rolled. It seemed to vault into space. When it 
descended, a sensation possessed me exactly as if I 
had suddenly been deprived of gravity. It seemed 
as if a spider-thread would have held me suspended 
in the air at the moment when the vehicle com- 
menced to descend. I felt as if the placing of my 
open hands on the air would buoy me up, and allow 
the descending vehicle to pass from under me. It 
was, I fancy, a feeling akin to the sensation expe- 
rienced by a sea-sick person at the moment when 
the vessel drops from a great height into the trough 
of the waves. 

I have spoken of a sort of atmosphere which 
enveloped me, and which seemed to grow gradually 
darker. It would be more correct to say that I felt 
as if I was in the centre of an immense sphere, 
which, near me, was a sort of twilight, but whose 
exterior was utter darkness. This exterior seemed 
rushing to the common centre formed by me. As I 
have said, I felt that, when this darkness reached 
me, I should be dead. The motion inward of the 
circumference of the sphere was felt by me some- 
what in the form of an apprehension. 

Suddenly, and with inconceivable velocity, the 
coming darkness dashed, as it were, upon me, and 
enshrouded me. I remember no more. My last 
remembrance is, that the thick shadows seemed in- 
terspered with a million auroral colors and corrus- 



270 Army and Other Sketches. 

cations; and that there shivered through me with 
infinite rapidity the conviction, This is death! 

It was days before I returned to consciousnessness, 
weeks before my recovery was deemed probable, 
and months before I was able to hobble from my 
room. 

Brattles had partly fallen and partly thrown him- 
self from the wagon when Howe struck the horse; and 
he escaped with a few severe contusions. About two- 
thirds of the way down the avenue, exactly where 
a pile of fallen rocks rendered a slight detour neces- 
sary, the wheel of the wagon on one side struck the 
debris; and the next second the vehicle, as if shot 
from a gun, was dashed against the face of the op- 
posite wall. A shapeless, bloody mass of flesh re- 
mained, and the horse, with some remnants of the 
wagon, continued his flight. 

A strange fact remains to be related with reference 
to myself. It is, that I was thrown from the vehicle 
within two seconds from the time that Howe's whip 
fell upon the body of the maddened horse. Accord- 
ing to the testimony of the woman with the little 
girl, at the second or third bound of the wagon it 
alighted upon its side wheels, and tipped sufficiently 
to throw me out, but righted again, owing to 
a change of position by Howe. The point where I 
was picked up was about sixty feet farther down 
the hill than where Brattles was found; and the dif- 
ference in our positions demonstrates that, at the 
probable rate of the speed of the horse, I was thrown 
out within one second after Brattles. 

It was during this single second that occurred all 
that I have related with reference to my thoughts 
and observations. Not only that which I have de- 
tailed took place, but there were a thousand other 



A Ride to Death. 271 

things — shadows of thoughts, glimpses of material 
objects, attenuated memories— which passed through 
my mind like a swift but disconnected panorama. 
Eeflection induces the conclusion that I did not 
really possess at the moment three independent 
operations of the mental faculties. Of course, such 
a thing is impossible. The probable explanation is, 
that the units, in each of these processes, while in 
reality separate, presented themselves with such 
enormous rapidity that they seemed a united whole, 
like the swiftly revolving spokes of a wheel. 





THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I 
HAVE KNOWN. 

|TN its recognition of notable women, the 
world is often led to base its judgment, and 
to confer fame, rather upon the showy than 
the truly substantial qualities. It is a melan- 
choly truth that Aspasia, Ninon de FEnclos, and 
Catherine de Medici stand out more prominently 
in this world's recollection than many another 
woman whose life has been characterized by virtues 
as the careers of those noted women were by their 
crimes. 

Valliere and the Countess of Blessington are in a 
fair way to attain immortality. Possibly they will 
live long after Florence Nightingale and other quiet 
heroines have been forgotten. I confess to a hearty 
dislike of these results; and, so far as I can, I will 
afford compensation to a neglected heroism. If I 
can not confer the immortality which has been at- 
tained by a bad woman like Madame de Maintenon, 
I can, at least, rescue temporarily from oblivion one 
woman, whose case impressed me more than any 
similar thing in my experience. 

In attempting this work, I hope for success with- 
out wounding the delicacy of her who is the subject 
of the task, or of those by whom she is surrounded. 
Not long since, while in search of health and rec- 




THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I HAVE KNOWN. 



The Most Beautiful Woman, Etc. 273 

reation, I spent some weeks in Essex, Vermont, 
which lies among the rugged hills that terminate the 
western slope of the Green mountains. It is a ster- 
ile, and yet hospitable region. There is something 
massive and enduring in the character of the resi- 
dents, which has been borrowed from the everlast- 
ing rocks and mountains. 

Among these people, each day I became infused 
with an increasing vigor, which seemed to be com- 
municated by contact with the rocky surface, as one 
tcvkes electricity from a battery. 

During my wanderings, I heard much of an inva- 
lid whose sufferings and patience were themes 
which, from long use, had almost grown into tradi- 
tions. Confined to her room by an incurable and 
frightful malady, she was loved, honored, pitied 
by all who spoke of her; and I was assured that not 
to visit her would be to deprive myself of a rare fel- 
icity. 

I plead that, being a stranger, my presence could 
but be regarded as an intrusion. In truth, my real 
reason was, that I did not wish to shock the pro- 
gress of my returning health with what I conceived 
would be the distressing vision of a sick room, with 
its array of medical paraphernalia, and its emanci- 
pated occupant. 

Yielding finally to solicitations which became 
pressing, I consented to make the required visit. 

For a distance of several miles, our conveyance 
threaded the narrow ravines, and climbed and de- 
scended the precipitous hills, along which twists 
the road that leads to the town of Westford. Away 
to the right against the sky, was traced the waver- 
ing line that marked the ridges of the Green Moun- 
tains. Between these peaks and our road, there 



274 Army and Other Sketches. 

descended a cataract-like mass of rock and wood- 
land, over all of which there rested a semi-diaphan- 
ous mist of softest blue. Along our left, ran a chain 
of massive hills — rent, here and there, into fissures 
whose depths grew dim and shadowy; and clad to 
the summit with stunted vegetation— among which, 
now and then, there appeared the gorgeous tints of 
autumn. 

Climbing a hill the road passed across a .narrow 
valley. On the one side, low ledges of rocks walled 
the road; on the other, there was a semi-circular 
clearing, upon which stood a plain white farm- 
building, 'with its outhouses and a garden. A few 
sheep, with corrugated fleeces were clustered in the 
shadow of the roadside-fence; and some cows dotted 
the further side of the opening, where it sloped up 
the hills. 

Here resided Farmer Lawrence; and within was 
the invalid to visit whose shrine our pilgrimage was 
made. 

The mother — a kindly-faced woman, with a sub- 
stantial form — and two sisters — gray-eyed and sad- 
visaged — received us. The father — a medium-sized 
gentleman, with benevolent face, and somewhat 
English style of countenance, in its squareness 
and coloring — soon after came in and joined the 
group. 

Greetings, and the hundreds of little questions so 
inseparable from meeting, were tinctured with a 
genial warmth, on the part of the family, that seem- 
ed to flow from natures that radiated kindliness as 
naturally as the sun gives off its beneficent heat. 

In a little while, we crossed the central hall, and 
entered the room of the remaining daughter. 



The Most Beautiful Woman, Etc. 275 

It was a roomy parlor, with a south and east front. 
It was a balmy afternoon, and white curtains, of 
exquisite cleanliness, rustled with a cool, tremulous 
motion, in and out the open windows. Upon a 
table, in front of one of the windows, was a variety 
of beautiful flowers, whose variegated petals and 
green leaves moved gently and harmoniously under 
the touch of the fugitive airs that passed into the 
room and out, in invisible procession. The western 
sun threw, through a window, a broad, golden band 
of light, which was shattered at intervals by the 
restless curtain. A few prints on the wall, a sofa, 
a table with some books, completed the outfit of the 
apartment. 

In the window was suspended a shallow basket 
containing crumbs. To and from this, darted wild 
birds, with many a chirp and whistle of joy. 

My eye took in these particulars the instant I en- 
tered the room. I hesitated, with a singular appre- 
hension of approaching distress, from first looking 
at that which was the real object of our journey. 
There was an introduction, and I could no longer 
hesitate. There was something in the corner, 
which, in my instinctive avoidance of a direct 
glance in that direction, seemed an indistinguish- 
able mass of snowy white. My name was ut- 
tered and I turned my glance upon this corner, 
which, for a single second or two, I had endeavored 
not to see. 

As I looked, the hitherto shapeless mass of white 
resolved itself into a cot covered with a snowy 
counterpane. Beneath this white covering were the 
undulating outlines of a woman, who lay with the 
covering thrown back so as to reveal her face, bust, 
and arms. 



276 Army and Other Sketches. 

As my eye reached the face, a thrill of surprise, 
and then of admiration, pervaded me. 

It was not the emaciated countenance of an inva- 
lid; but the full, rose-tinted, glorious face of a re- 
cumbent Venus ! 

To describe this face is a labor at which I hesi- 
tate, as might one who was about to convey in words 
the ideas which would inspire him as he recalled 
Guido's sublimely sad face of Beatrice Cenci. The 
cheeks had none of that pallor characteristic of long 
suffering. There was a groundwork of perfect 
purity, with just a hint of transparence; and over 
which there lay a flush such as comes from the finer 
ripening processes of the sun. Her hands were 
small, with long, slender, shapely fingers. Her clean- 
cut lips revealed rows of even, pearly teeth. Her 
face was of the purest oval, and back from her 
forehead lay heavy masses of brown hair, that 
darkened, or became flecked with golden tints, as 
the uneasy curtains shut off or admitted the brilliant 
sunlight. Her eyes, filled often with a tender 
solemnity, seemed, under the semi-shadow of her 
forehead, to be a dreamy, bluish-gray, that lightened 
with humor, or grew dark and humid under the in- 
fluence of pathetic emotion. 

And yet this young woman, — this girl, — with 
the dreamy eyes, and a sad Smile hovering about 
her lips,- — had for fourteen years been a helpless, 
broken victim of disease. She who thus lay upon 
her right side; who looked, at times, with a girlish- 
matronly glance, toward the flowers, her only chil- 
dren; who seemed like a young beauty fresh from 
conquests and successes, had lain in her present po- 
sition, perfectly immovable save as to arms, shoul- 
ders, and head, for the best portion of these fourteen 



The Most Beautiful Woman, Etc. 277 

years. All these weary years, bound like Prome- 
theus to his rock, she has suffered, at intervals, in- 
describable agonies. Her slender frame, filled with 
a horrible strength, has been so torn and convulsed 
that the combined efforts of three strong men have 
been found no more than sufficient to restrain her 
till the crisis has passed. 

Doomed each day to be stretched for a time upon 
a rack, compared to which that of the Inquisition 
was merciful, how is it that she has developed these 
graces, and that there envelopes her features a 
serenity that has the brightness of a saintly halo ? 
I know not, unless it be from a knowledge that pass- 
eth the understanding of us who dwell out in the 
great world. 

She possesses intelligence that in no sense does in- 
justice to her appearance. She conversed cheer- 
fully upon ordinary topics; and was humorous, 
pathetic, or serious, as the theme demanded. She 
uttered no word of complaint that she was doomed 
to a living death, nor has one passed her lips during 
the long years of intense suffering that have rolled 
over her with their unvarying absence of relief, or 
even of mitigation. 

This Hattie Lawrence; this dead-alive young 
saint; this woman who shall never know mother- 
hood, save such as is given her in her flowers and 
birds; this woman whose beauty bewilders; whose 
patience and serenity amaze me; who is imprisoned 
forever from the bright world, with its wifehood 
and its enjoyments; and who knows life only as 
men near to, and yet out of sight of, the ocean, hear 
the dashing of the surf, and the thunder of the 
waves, — this uncomplaining, hopeful, immovable 
victim is to me the embodiment of a thousand times 



278 Army and Other Sketches. 

more heroism than is any other woman whom his- 
tory has embalmed for immortality. She is one who, 
better than even the original, fills the graceful pic- 
ture of Mademoiselle de Villene, of whom it was 
said: 

" Son esprit tout divin repond a son beau corps, 
Le ciel en la faisant epuisa ses tresors." 

Such of us who toil and sorrow, and who find life 
wearisome and a pain, should look for a few mo- 
ments upon the sunny face, and into the tender, 
hopeful eyes of this gallant soul, whose sufferings 
and whose beauty I have so imperfectly delineated. 
In so doing, we should find that there is no agony 
so severe, no endeavor so arduous, no grief so inter- 
mittent and poignant, that it may not be endured, 
Until its chastening result is an adornment. 







